The Boomslang Thief
by RainCityWriter
Summary: Harry stands accused of murder and Hermione decides they need help from an unlikely source - Professor Snape. Can Snape's deductive skills solve the mystery in time to be able to exact revenge on the trio responsible for the theft of the boomslang skin? This is a murder-mystery set in the fourth year. Warnings: will contain spanking of a teen, OC's, death of an OC.
1. Chapter 1 - Deal with the Devil

_AN: This story is unrelated to any of my previous works. This story is a murder mystery set in the fourth book during the tri-wizard tournament. I don't see this as a long and complex story as some of my others have become, but rather a shorter exercise in thinking of how it could be to have Snape as a private investigator. I don't see this as a guardian type of story either, although I hope that the principal characters will come to some sort of understanding. I've not written this kind of story before, suggestions and encouragement would be very helpful._

 _Please let me know what you think! I love comments, suggestions, and engagement from readers. I find input from others makes the story much more interesting!_

 _Warnings: I am not JK Rowling and do not own Harry Potter or related characters. I merely play in the sandbox she built. This story is AU, though as canon compliant as I can make it given the circumstances. There will be original characters and spanking (cp) of a teenager, if those bother you then please read another fic. Abusive comments are summarily deleted._

* * *

Snape sat in his potions lab, enjoying the reverie of a quiet evening. Detentions were done and miscreants were sent to bed ahead of curfew, and his grading had been caught up. He had the pleasure of a new potion to work on and no conceivable interruptions between now and breakfast. It was rare thing indeed that he would have the luxury of such an evening.

Just as he added the powdered asphodel to his infusion, he heard a small knock at his door. He didn't know who it could be at this hour, as Dumbledore would not have given him the courtesy of a knock. It must be a Slytherin prefect with a problem with a student.

"Enter," he intoned, casting a stasis charm over his potion.

"Good evening, professor," a girl greeted him, and only his clear use of occlumency hid his surprise as to who that voice belonged to. Why would that particular girl be visiting him just before curfew?

"State your business," he told her curtly. "I have a busy evening ahead of me."

"I have come to ask for your help," she told him. "Please, may I have a minute?"

"Sixty seconds," he told her. "And this had better be good."

"Harry needs your help," she told him plainly. "And I have come to ask for it."

"Surely there are many far more suitable for such a task," Snape snarled at her. "I believe he has hoards of fans at his disposal and a head of house and headmaster that barely believe he could do anything wrong."

"I think you are the only one that can help," she told him simply. "Dumbledore and McGonagall have too much sympathy for him, and that's leading to them excusing him rather than exonerating him."

"Stop babbling and tell me what has happened," he snapped at her. "Or leave my lab at once."

"Someone has killed one of the students from Durmstrang," she explained. "Harry will be accused."

"Do I look like an Auror?" he asked her incredulously. "What makes you think I can investigate a murder?"

"I believe it is a plot to frame Harry," she told him. "And the boy was poisoned. I have gone through this quite logically, and really you are the best person. I don't trust the Aurors, the ministry has not shown itself to be trustworthy."

"I'm surprised that you find me trustworthy," he snapped.

"You have never lied to me," she answered with feeling. "And never pandered to anyone. People know exactly what you think. I think that sort of trustworthiness is what we need."

Snape barely suppressed a smirk, the chit had no idea how much he suppressed how how much of his life he spent lying. "And why would I agree to this insanity?" he quipped. "This is a murder, not a prank war with Hufflepuff."

"I will do anything," she offered, trying to keep the note of desperation out of her voice. She knew he could bargain for terrible things – and she would do it. She was that desperate.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice dark and menacing.

"Anything," she repeated, swallowing down her fear.

"Then I would like information regarding the theft of several ingredients from my private potions cupboard that are incidentally used for making Polyjuice Potion," he told her firmly, relishing in the shock that lit her face.

"That's what you want?" she asked incredulously.

"I want all pertinent information to all related rule-breaking," he confirmed. "And I want the the ability to punish the wrongdoers how I see fit, up to and including the cane."

Hermione blinked, surprised. "The cane isn't used at Hogwarts," she argued.

"It's not used in Gryffindor," he corrected. "But you know as well as I do that there is no rule prohibiting in, and in fact there's a long tradition of its use."

"I can't guarantee others submitting themselves to your punishment," she told him carefully. "I can try, however."

"What I would require was your cooperation," he told her with a menacing glare. "And the information that you possess. I have ways to ensure the cooperation of others."

"I agree to confess my wrongdoings," she told him, forcing herself not to think about the consequences to her agreement.

"Excellent," he replied. "Now tell me."

"Now?" she squeaked. "I thought you would help Harry first."

"Out of the two of us I believe I am the one who is the most 'trustworthy,'" he replied acerbically. "However, I would be willing to make a wizard's oath."

"You promise to help Harry if I tell you everything I know about the ingredients and let you punish me for it?"

"I vow to help Harry with this accusation in return for your supplying the requested information and submitting to what I deem as appropriate punishment for the misdeed, up to and including the cane."

Snape felt the ripple of the oath cover him and then vanish, but he knew that the oath didn't vanish. It didn't bother him either, for surely if Dumbledore's golden boy were in trouble Dumbledore would request his help anyway. But it intrigued him that this young Gryffindor would not only put so much faith in him but also to be willing to give him whatever he asked for in return. That type of loyalty hit a chord for him, even if it was just part of the detestable Gryffindor ethics.

Hermione recognized the vow, and bit her lip in nervousness. She knew that he would keep his end of the bargain, but she also knew the information she had was both going to make him furious and also not satisfy what he thought she was going to tell him. And she was becoming increasingly convinced that this was going to end in a very painful way for herself.

"In second year I took advantage of a distraction and stole from you," she confessed. "I stole a boomslang skin. I then used it to brew Polyjuice Potion. My plan was to use that potion to then break into the Slytherin common room to try and ascertain if Draco Malfoy knew anything about the heir of Slytherin. In order to do that, I dosed Crabbe and Goyle with a sleeping potion. However, the potion went wrong and instead of a hair from the Slytherin girl I intended, I had a hair from her cat."

"You were in the infirmary for two weeks," he remembered, his eyes narrowing.

"I was," she agreed.

"And you were not alone."

"I wasn't," she agreed. "But I did not agree to confess anyone else's wrongdoings."

Snape nodded, knowing he would come back to that later. "I was more interested in your more recent thefts," he told her. "I have had missing ingredients all year."

"That was not me," she told him firmly. "Nor any compatriot of mine."

"I thought you couldn't confess another's wrongdoing," he told her.

"I won't," she answered stubbornly. "But I can confess their innocence. I vow on everything that I hold sacred that we have not stolen any Polyjuice Potion ingredients from you since second year."

"What about Gillyweed?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"That wasn't part of our agreement," she quipped back. But then, deciding that it was not going to damn her any more, she told him, "Harry did benefit from stolen Gillyweed. That is all I'll say on the topic."

Snape grit his teeth together in frustration, and quickly reviewed the story. "In second year you dosed Crabbe and Goyle, and stole a cat hair from an unnamed Slytherin girl. Therefore, you had two accomplices. I think any idiot would know who they are."

"You don't have proof," she countered, sounding more confident than she felt.

"I don't need proof," he answered back in his silky, menacing voice. "I have you. Your infamous trio has one week to confess to their wrongdoing and submit to their punishments. Which, let me be clear, will involve bending over my desk and feeling the business end of a large paddle."

"And if they don't?" she asked lowly, already deciding that they wouldn't.

"Then it will be you," he told her. "And it will be the cane. I suggest you research the differences as that should help you make your decision. Now, will you promise to tell them this information or will you leave it to me to convey?"

"I will tell them," she nodded.

"Do not think to be a foolish Gryffindor and spare your friends by not telling them," he told her, his voice smooth. "I will know if you fail to tell them by potions tomorrow."

"Harry might not even be around to accept his punishment!" she told him incredulously. "Didn't you hear me tell you that he's been accused of murder? He could be in Azkaban!"

"If I fail so miserably as to not clear his name by next Sunday evening, then I will cancel his punishment," Snape agreed, nodding. "But not yours."

Hermione nodded, that was fair. Although she felt a little faint at the idea of bending over and letting Snape take a paddle to her, she carefully schooled her features and forced her mind to abandon that mental picture. It didn't matter now, it had to do with saving Harry.

Snape looked over the girl that had always been such an enigma to him. She was clearly intelligent, arguably the brightest witch of her year if not in the whole school. But yet she was placed in Gryffindor, and her friends were Potter and the sidekick that Snape had not discerned a use for. But here she was, willing to do anything to save her friend. And she had barely blinked when he had told her that she would get the paddle, a sentence that would send most Slytherins into a tizzy of apologies and bargaining. But there she stood, firm in her resolution and loyalty to her friend, and willing to sacrifice anything for them. He saw her for the first time for the Gryffindor that she truly was.

"You will now tell me everything you know about the murder," he told her. "Do not leave out even the slightest detail, even if it seems foolish. I also need to know every detail about yours and Potter's whereabouts in the last twenty-four hours."

"But that's part of the problem, professor," she told him respectfully. "Nobody knows where Harry was during the time of the murder, not even Harry. He's had some sort of memory charm performed on him or something. He's half afraid that he did commit the murder."

"But you are certain of his innocence?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I am," she replied solidly. "Would I come to you and make the bargain that we made if I wasn't?"

Snape had to admit that she had a point. He looked at her critically once more, and asked. "Why are you so certain?"

"Because I know him, professor," she replied, her eyes lowering with emotion. "He would never do such a thing. And if he did, it would be under the Imperious Curse."

"Now, Miss Granger," he told her in a tone that brooked no disobedience. "You will tell me everything that you know about this situation.

Nodding, Hermione began.


	2. Chapter 2 - Meeting the Body

_AN: Thank you so much for the great support! I think this is going to be fun to write. If anybody's ever seen the show Death in Paradise that's sort of the feeling I'm going for here._

* * *

Snape knocked softly on the door of the infirmary, and a very worried Madame Pomfrey let him in.

"I'm so glad it's you, Severus," she told him. "You've found out about the child's death. Please come in, the Aurors have just left."

"What did they conclude?" he asked softly as she led him across the infirmary.

"They didn't tell me," she sniffed. "But I can tell you right now that there is no potions master that works for the ministry is half as talented as you are."

"I was led to believe that it might be poison."

"That's the theory," she told him. "Would you like to examine the body?"

"I would," Snape agreed. "I'm surprised they left it here."

"The boy was from Durmstrang," Madame Pomfrey explained as she led him over to the isolation room. "They don't have jurisdiction to take the body without permission. They left it here for now under a stasis charm. I put him over here so he wouldn't disturb anyone."

"I see your infirmary is empty tonight."

"The few patients I had were malingering," she explained. "I sent them back to their houses. They were ready to go – apparently spending the night with a body in the next room isn't what they wanted either."

She went over to the bed and with her usual brisk efficiency, she turned down the sheet she had placed over the student's head.

"Meet Dragomir Danchev," Poppy said softly. "He is the son of Yordan and Danko. Apparently his friends referred to his as Mir."

"He is a healthy-looking boy," Snape observed, taking in the details of his body.

"He's only fifteen," she said, her voice soft with sympathy. "A baby, really."

"Why was he chosen to be on this delegation?" Snape asked.

"I believe his father is important in the ministry in Bulgaria," Poppy told him. "That's what I overheard the ministry saying. They are very worried that this will look badly for our English Ministry."

"Hmm, they would love it if this was an accident or somehow the fault of Durmstrang," Snape surmised. "Have you examined the body yourself, Madame?"

"I have," Poppy answered. "Only a few things that I viewed as out of the ordinary. First, the child had recently been caned."

"Caned?" Snape asked incredulously. "I know that it is far more commonly applied at Durmstrang, but that still surprises me."

"He received 10 strokes as near as I could tell," Poppy told him. "And it was done by someone who knew what they were doing. Nine distinct, evenly-spaced stripes from top to bottom of his backside and the tenth struck perpendicular to the others. Probably the morning of the murder."

"Ten is harsh but reasonable," Snape told her. "An infraction, perhaps. The person also clearly meant to give him ten, so he wasn't being manipulated. If someone were trying to use it for torture or coercion it would have been more."

"He wasn't restrained, either," Poppy told him. "And there was one other curious thing I found as well. His last meal consisted of caviar, blintzes, cream and chocolate mousse."

"How do you know that?"

"He wasn't dead when he arrived, Severus," she told him. "And he vomited. I ran a standard test for food allergies."

"I understand those are more common foods for our Bulgarian friends," Snape nodded.

"Nobody was serving them last night," Poppy told him. "Or in the last few days."

"So he ate dinner with someone last night," Snape confirmed. "Someone who wanted to impress him. It would have pained him to sit to it."

"You know more than I do," Poppy told him. "But I saved some of the vomit for you."

"How thoughtful," he said, accepting the vial with aplomb. He dealt with far fouler things than a little vomit. "I shall run tests and try and ascertain the poison used. That might help us find the culprit."

"Oh, and I also found something odd about his eyes," she told him, gently opening the body's eyes with her fingers.

"What's odd?" he asked curiously.

"They were clouded," she told him. "But that's odd, they aren't anymore. They're back to being clear."

"Did you try the standard antidotes and a bezoar on him?" Snape asked, closing his eyes in concentration.

"Of course," Madame Pomfrey told him sharply, as if he were questioning her competency. "I spelled all three standard antidotes into his stomach, as well as a bezoar in his stomach and mouth. Nothing worked, not even your excellent antidote for uncommon poisons."

"Did he twitch as he died?" Snape asked.

"He did," Madame Pomfrey agreed, watching him carefully. "You know what it was."

"I suspect," he answered. Then, he took the small vial of vomit Madame Pomfrey had given him and shook it vigorously. The vial glowed a phosphorescent blue for a moment, and then went dark again.

"What was that?" Madame Pomfrey asked, stunned.

"Moonseed Poison," he replied. "Somewhat sophisticated and extremely dangerous. You can rest easy about your treatment, Madame, there is no known cure for Moonseed Poison. Even if we had known what he ingested and I had been right here with you, we probably would not have been able to save him."

"Where could this poison have been attained?"

"My stores," he answered bluntly. "Knockturn alley. The seeds are sold by some more respectable herbologists because it can be used in a topical remedy for arthritis. Though rare, it doesn't exactly exclude people."

"Is it hard to make?" she asked.

"Any idiot third year could manage it," he told her. "Even Longbottom. But they would have to know how to do it, and that's the rub. It's not in any of our standard potions curriculum, and I don't teach it except for mastery students. I see no reason to teach children how to make incurable poisons, it would thin the ranks in Slytherin and Gryffindor considerably."

"Then how could it be made?" she asked, smothering a smile about the Slytherin comment.

"The potion can be found in certain potions books, so someone other than a potions master can certainly still make it," he explained. "Also, I must say that it does require forethought and privacy to make, as it would be difficult to purchase fully made. It takes two weeks to brew; however it is a cold brew so that it is easier to hide."

"Not many potions are cold brew," Madame Pomfrey shook her head.

"Heat it at initial infusion of powdered seed, then put it into a corked vial and shake it thrice daily for two weeks," Snape told her as if he were reading a book. And, to be honest, that was sort of how his mind stored information. "The potion gives off a faint phosphorescent light once it reaches potency. The potency is maintained for up to two years if not exposed to oxygen. Once opened, the poison is worthless within a few hours."

"So the vial the killer initially made won't work again," she agreed. "Let's hope that he didn't make others."

Madame Pomfrey hesitated, and then looked Snape in the eye. "They think Harry did it," she admitted. "I'm not sure why they think that, but I heard his name mentioned."

"What motive could Potter possibly have to harm this boy?" he asked critically.

"Apparently he knew a lot about strategy," Madame Pomfrey replied. "He was also one of Viktor's best friends, which is understandable being one of the few Bulgarians in a Scandinavian school. I think the motive might be to put Viktor off his game?"

"Hardly a Gryffindor approach," Snape dismissed. "Though Potter could certainly use a good beating, he is in no way responsible for this."

"To hear you say that is refreshing," Madame Pomfrey smiled. "But that is where the ministry is going with this."

"Then I must find the real culprit," Snape answered. "And Madame, until I know more information, please keep my conclusions from the Ministry. Until I can rule them out as having a hand in this, I refuse to help them."

"Understood," she nodded. "They weren't particularly interested in my observations either, and they didn't take a sample of the vomit either. I'm not sure they wrote down or even heeded anything I told them."

"Idiots," Snape rolled his eyes. "Now I see why I was drafted into this mess."

"Let me know what your tests find," she told him. "If there are to be other cases of this poison I should like to be prepared."

"There is no way to be prepared," he answered her with a sigh. "Whomever did this certainly intended for Mr. Danchev to die. I shall investigate if my stores were robbed in this process as well."

"Keep me informed," Madame Pomfrey told him. "And I will let you know."

"Upon reflection I have one more question," Snape told her. "First, what is the name of that odd little elf that Potter stole off of the Malfoys in his second year?"

"Dobby," she answered, smiling. "Such a dear little fellow."

"Excellent," Snape told her. "They never think to check with house-elves."


	3. Chapter 3 - Severus Asking

The next day being Saturday, Snape had plenty of opportunity to speak to the principal players. He started easy with the Durmstrang classmates. Nobody knew where Mr. Danchev had been the night before, and but nobody had found it particularly odd that he hadn't been at dinner.

"Well, he'd had a hard day," one Durmstrang student hedged in his heavily accented English.

"You mean he'd been caned that morning?" Snape asked, gratified as the teen's eyes widened in surprise.

"You know about that?" he asked.

"Tell me what you know about it, Mr. Lindgren," Snape encouraged.

"You should ask Krum about it," the boy answered, looking away. "But I can tell you it was given to him by Karkaroff."

"Do you know what his infraction was?" Snape pressed.

"No," he answered truthfully. "But it had to have hurt. Karkaroff has a strong arm, even a few strokes are brutal, let alone ten."

"Was Krum a friend of Mr. Danchev?"

The boy snorted. "Mir was his keeper," he explained. "His job was to keep him from embarrassing Bulgaria. They weren't friends; Mir was following orders."

"Did Krum dislike Mr. Danchev?" Snape asked, surprised.

"Of course," the boy answered. "Would you like your father's fist over your life? The whip he used to bring you to heel?"

"I would not," Snape answered thoughtfully. "I might try to get rid of him."

The boy snorted. "They have said that the English want to make this our problem, as if a Durmstrang person hurt Mir. We know the truth."

"And what is the truth?" Snape asked.

"England is unstable," he answered. "Though your ministry denies it, we know that there are forces afoot. And those forces benefit from disrupting this competition, do they not? My father always says that to find the guilty, you need to find the benefit."

"Your father is a wise man, Mr. Lindgren," Snape told him, nodding. "Let me know if there's anything else you want us to know."

. . .

Snape decided to talk to Karkaroff next, and to offer his help. His old acquaintance should be well and truly panicking by now, worried about the political forces back home. He was already nearly in a constant state of panic as his dark mark had grown darker during the year, and Snape had discussed it several times with him.

"Good evening," Snape greeted him as he entered his chamber. Snape felt the floor shift subtly under his feet, reminding him that though this room was as large as the chamber he had at Hogwarts they were in fact on a boat.

"My friend," Karkaroff returned, looking somewhat relieved to see Snape. "I'm so glad you have come. You have always had a mind for these things."

"What happened?" Snape asked, in a friendly and guileless voice.

"Who would have thought someone would kill poor Mir?"

"I heard you had decidedly less sympathy for the lad earlier today," Snape answered, accepting the vodka that Karkaroff offered him.

Karkaroff shrugged. "I caned the boy, if that's what you mean."

"Why?"

"Infraction," Karkaroff answered. "He overstepped himself with Krum. He didn't protest the punishment."

"The English might look at your treatment of the boy being somewhat to blame," Snape explained to him. "Perhaps it was suicide?"

"Durmstrang students are not like your weak English mushrooms," Karkaroff scoffed. "The boy knew he had done wrong and accepted the punishment for it. He was not upset."

"Perhaps Krum . . .?"

"No," Karkaroff replied. "Not Krum. Oh, he looks all tough and like he's going to eat a baby for breakfast, but he is not that way. He is a good boy, kind even. I have had to toughen him up."

"Can you thing of anybody from Durmstrang that would have hurt the boy?" Snape asked. "Grudges, perhaps?"

"Not a one," Karkaroff told him. "I think it must be an English wizard that would do this thing. Nobody from Durmstrang did. Or perhaps the French – poison is a woman's weapon, yes?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed. He knew better than to batter the iron occlumency shields that Karkaroff possessed, but he couldn't tell if the man was being honest or not. There was something just a little off about him, but he couldn't place it.

"Do you know anything that could help me find the killer?" Snape asked, his voice soft and hypnotic. Snape used his occlumency just to push a little, knowing anything more would produce defenses.

Karkaroff hesitated, and then shook his head. "I fear that it is nothing."

"It is something," Snape assured him. "If your instincts tell you something's off, then something is off."

"It is nothing," Karkaroff repeated, and then looked away. "It is about Alastor Moody. You know how much the man hates me."

"Of course," Snape answered.

"I saw him talking with the boy in the hallway earlier today. They were talking earnestly, but stopped when I came upon them," Karkaroff explained. "As I said, nothing."

"Have you notified the boy's parents yet?" Snape asked.

"I have floo called them," Karkaroff nodded, quaffing his vodka. "They are distraught."

"Naturally," Snape agreed. "I understand that the boy had special . . . obligations to Krum's family."

"Yes, he was their little owl," Karkaroff agreed. "Sending messages either way, making sure that Krum towed the line. That is what got him caned."

"But I thought his job was approved?"

"Yes, but not if done in an unscrupulous manner," Karkaroff explained. "He was found rifling through Krum's things for evidence of wrongdoing. He admitted trying to earn extra credit by finding something incriminating."

"Who caught him rifling?" Snape asked, contemplating.

"Krum himself," Karkaroff answered. "Marched him to me for punishment, too."

"Most boys are loathe to get their classmates in trouble," Snape observed.

"Krum takes his responsibility very seriously," Karkaroff answered. "As well as the honor code. No, the boys know better than rule-breaking around him."

"Then if he was so straight and narrow why did he need a minder?" Snape asked. "Why was Mir there?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Karkaroff answered, eyeing his empty glass and considering another drink. "Krum is exactly what we want at Durmstrang; brave, smart, loyal and fierce with a first-rate pedigree. He has never been in trouble that I am aware of."

"Curious," Snape answered, and set down the glass of vodka, untouched. "Thank you for your time."

"You will turn up the culprit?" Karkaroff asked. "And tell me? Man to man?"

"I will," Snape told him, nodding soberly.

As Snape left and walked back to his quarters, he wondered at what he had found out. He felt sure about crossing Karkaroff off the suspect list, he had just seemed too damn innocent. And there's also just the logistics – why cane a boy you're intending to poison? But there was also something else there, something else that Karkaroff wasn't saying.

Snape returned to his quarters, surprised to find a certain fuzzy-haired witch waiting for him.

"Good afternoon, professor," she greeted him.

"Good afternoon," he replied. "Pray tell me how you are in my private office?"

"We can discuss details later," she brushed it aside. "What have you found out?"

"Let me be very clear, Miss Granger," he intoned, sitting on his chair and leaning back. "I am not your employee, and we are not on some silly show on the telly in which we are an unlikely duo solving crimes, is that clear?"

"Clear," she answered, nodding. "Please?"

"Moonseed poison," he answered with a sigh. "That is the cause of death. Dobby cannot be found, but I am hoping that he can confirm Potter's whereabouts. I have talked to several others trying to ascertain the character and habits of the decedent. I have found several interesting bits, including the fact that Krum had caught Mir going through his things this morning and brought him to Karkaroff for punishment. He was soundly caned."

"Caned?" Hermione paled.

"Not an unusual punishment for Durmstrang," Snape nodded. "Though rarer in Hogwarts. Usually only reserved for the most heinous of crimes, such as cheating, or perhaps theft."

Hermione looked away, not wanting to engage on that particular score. "Shall I research Moonseed then?" she asked.

"I already know what's to be known," Snape sighed.

"Can we detect its residue on people?" she asked. "Like, could we make their hands glow if they handled it?"

"Perhaps," he mused. "I believe it might react to other phosphorescent substances, such as found in some sea creatures."

"I would love to help you," she supplied helpfully.

"Of course you would," he replied, rolling his eyes. "I suppose you can, if you must."

"Harry's in custody," she answered in a smaller voice, and suddenly seemed the child she really was. "I have to be busy."

"Then start straining pickled plankton," Snape sighed. "This potion is going to be tricky."


	4. Chapter 4 - The Accused

Snape spent a quiet afternoon with the Granger twit making a potion that identified and enhanced other phosphorescent substances, and even he had to admit she was helpful. The potion would take several hours to fully finish, but at least it was started. What next?

Snape knew that the next logical person to talk to was Potter, but he found himself strangely reluctant. Did he think the boy guilty? No. But neither did he want to deal with a self-righteous Gryffindor declaring his innocence and demanding that others jump to defend himself. It rankled that he would be one of the boy's defenders, he realized. It was uncomfortable ground.

"Mr. Potter," he greeted the boy as he entered the chamber. Dumbledore had put the boy in a cell, essentially, but had made sure that it was a comfortable one. Though the boy couldn't leave the room, he had every comfort.

He saw the boy sitting at the table with his head resting in his arms, and Snape found himself ready to sneer at the boy's sloth. Did he really not care so much that he was actually just napping while others scrambled to exonerate his sorry backside?

But when Harry picked up his head and looked at Snape, he was taken aback. The boy was not indignant and insistent, he was devastated. They boy's red-rimmed eyes looked up at Snape in fear and remorse, and actually seemed a bit relieved to see the Potion Master. Who had he been expecting?

"Did I miss a homework or a detention, professor?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry, I've been . . . detained." The last word came out with a slight strangle, and Snape found himself suddenly realizing that the boy had been crying.

"Pull yourself together, Potter," he snapped at the boy. "One would think you were guilty or something."

"Maybe I am," the boy answered with his voice hitching alarmingly. "I know that Hermione asked you to help me."

"Did she tell you what the price was for my cooperation?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing.

"She did," he nodded, with a slight wince at the cost. "But believe me when I say that it would be worth it."

"Did she tell you that the cost would be paid by you and your other sidekick as well?" Snape pressed.

"Of course," Harry rolled his eyes a little. "As if we would let her take the cane for us."

"You will need to cooperate with me fully and answer any questions that I deem appropriate," Snape told him firmly.

"I'll cooperate," Harry agreed. Snape knew that this agreement wasn't a normal state of affairs for Harry, but that his fear and desperation were acting to have him trust even the Potions Master for help. Snape found himself somewhat flummoxed by this new Potter.

"Summon your elf," Snape ordered.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"I am tired of this disrespect," he growled. "Summon your elf at once. He's been avoiding me because he knows how you feel about me, so he won't come unless you summon him."

"I don't have an elf," Harry answered. "I mean, I'm friends with Dobby . . ."

"Summon Dobby," Snape nodded curtly.

"Um, I guess," Harry looked uncertain. "I've never really done this before. Dobby? Could you please come talk to us?"

Instantly, a small elf popped into the room just beside Harry. "Master Harry Potters sir!" the small elf greeted him.

"Hi Dobby," Harry managed a bit of a smile. "Professor Snape wanted to talk to you."

"I sees him in class," Dobby turned towards Snape with his tiny face wrenched in consternation. "Yous are not good to my friend Harry Potter."

"Dobby, if you answer my questions honestly it would help your friend a great deal," Snape told him calmly. "You want to help him, right?"

"Of course!" Dobby answered with excitement. "Me, helping a wizard! My friend Harry Potter!"

"Yes, yes," Snape nodded. "Please pay attention. I need to know where Harry was yesterday."

"He was many places, sir."

"I need you to tell me all of them," Snape told him, pulling out a quill and parchment. "It's important."

Dobby looked at Harry questioningly, and Harry nodded. "Tell him everything," Harry indicated. "Even stuff you think will get me in trouble. Professor Snape is trying to help me."

And so Dobby told him of Harry eating breakfast and having a piece of toast and getting jam in his hair, of passing notes with Ron during History of Magic, and how he'd tried to skive off of Potions and been caught.

"That explains your tardiness," Snape glowered a bit.

"You can give me lines or detention later," Harry shrugged. "I believe that's the least of my problems now. But how does Dobby know all this stuff?"

"I watch you, Harry Potter," Dobby smiled a little. "You are Dobby's friend."

"Continue, Dobby," Snape directed. "What happened next?"

Dobby went through the rest of Harry's day, up until dinner. Then, Dobby's face screwed up in concentration, and he said softly. "I'm not sure how it happened."

"How what happened?" Snape asked.

"House elves watch our people," Dobby explained. "And we always come when we're called. But Dobby didn't see everything. I knew Harry was in danger, though. And then . . ."

"Go on, Dobby," Snape encouraged.

"I found him asleep," Dobby admitted. "He was near the Owlery. I's think, maybe, its something from those twins friends. Sos Dobby covers Harry Potter with a blanket."

"I don't remember that!" Harry exclaimed.

"What happened next?" Snape asked.

"I dids not want to get Master Harry Potter in trouble," Dobby explained. "I hid him."

"Hid me?" Harry asked.

"So you hid the boy, and then he woke up later?"

"He woke up very early this morning," Dobby replied. "He went to his bed and he walked strange."

"The last thing I remember is dinner," Harry admitted. "I don't remember anything until I woke up this morning in my bed."

"According to Dobby you were framed for the murder," Snape surmised.

"So, that's it then?" Harry asked. "I'm all cleared?"

"House elf testimony is not admissible in court," Snape answered. "But I hope that it answers at least for you and I that you had nothing to do with it."

"That's a relief," Harry sighed, and Snape saw that he meant it. The lad really had been afraid that he'd hurt someone.

"Surely you didn't really think you'd done it," Snape observed to him.

"Well, not consciously," Harry admitted. "But what if I had the imperious? Or like what happened to Ginny on second year?"

"If you had paid attention in Defense class you would know that under the imperious you retain memories," Snape snapped at him. "And please let me know if you are handling any of the Dark Lord's school things."

"But then what happened?" Harry pressed.

"Obviously, you were confounded," Snape told him. "Not exculpatory evidence either, as any idiot can confound themselves after a crime."

"So what do we do next, then?" Harry asked him.

Snape examined the boy, wondering how to answer his question. Part of him wanted to send the boy to detention for never once saying "sir" to him, but the other part of him saw the boy for the scared fourteen year old he was.

"We start by you calling me sir," Snape intoned.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, though he felt a bit awkward doing so. But if this man was actually going to save him from prison . . .

"And then you will trust me," Snape replied. "Don't admit anything, don't talk to anyone without me there, and for Merlin's sake do your best to reign in your Potterish tendencies towards breaking rules."

"Even Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "I mean, I should always ask for you?"

"Always ask for me," he intoned. "At least until we have this sorted out. We don't know who to trust because you've been framed. Presumably they would like to keep you that way."

"How do I ask for you?" Harry asked. "I mean, what if they don't want you there? Sir."

Snape had to admit that the boy had a point. He sighed, realizing the lengths he was going through just to have a chance at meting out some justice for theft committed two years ago. But he didn't let himself ask if it was worth it, or even if that was his primary motivation anymore.

Snape looked around the room, finding a pawn chess piece. With a flick of his wand, the small pawn glowed and then looked normal again.

"If you say the phrase, 'I want Professor Snape' then this will alert me," Snape told him. "And I will be here shortly. Keep it in your pocket."

"Thank you," Harry told Snape. "Thank you for actually believing me."

"You are a terrible liar," Snape told him, studying his face critically. "And have done many wrong things in your career at Hogwarts, and been held accountable for very little. However, even I do not want to see you in Azkaban, Potter. Surely you don't think that ill of me."

"Maybe," Harry answered, his mouth finding a faint smile. "You have been pretty hard on me."

"And have saved you several times," Snape reminded him. "Merlin's sakes, child, if I had wanted rid of you I would have only needed to step aside for the numerous times you were in actual danger! I would not need an elaborate plan to frame you."

"Is it an elaborate plan?" Harry asked. "I thought this seemed more spur of the moment."

"I'm the detective here," Snape answered grumpily, though Harry's words had truth in them. This was not well thought out. So then where did they get such an elaborate poison? What if that was the most handy one to hand, and the plan was more a stopgap measure? They needed to find the source of that poison.


	5. Chapter 5 - Guilty Hands

_AN: I'm glad people are enjoying the story, I hope you like where I'm going with it. :) To answer a few questions, I think this story will be around 10-12 chapters or so long. That's open for change, however, but that's what I'm thinking now. I am hoping to lay clues enough to guess who the culprit is. I would like to work Draco in, we'll see what happens. Thanks for comments, suggestions, etc._

* * *

The next morning, Snape arrived at breakfast early. He had been alerted that all of the inhabitants of the castle and the boat were currently having breakfast, hurried along by Peeves and helpful house elves. This only worked if everyone was there, so no sleeping in today.

"I have an announcement," Snape loudly spoke to the assembled students, quelling chatter with a severe glare. "This is important to everyone."

"Important enough to send the house elves to wake everyone?" one cheeky Ravenclaw asked.

"Yes," Snape hissed at him. "Unless you think your morning dozing more important than a person's life."

The cheeky student looked suitably abashed, and Snape could tell he had everyone's attention. Snape held up a small, antique atomizer that had a glass bottom filled with faintly glowing potion and a brass sprayer. "This is a potion that will recognize if you have handled a certain poison," Snape told them. "I will spray this on every person's hands as they leave this room. There are legitimate reasons to have this potion on your hands, so do not worry if you are positive."

"Will it hurt?" a small first year asked.

"Line up as you finish your breakfast," Snape instructed, ignoring worried looks. "I will spray you as you leave. House elves are watching every exit, so being sprayed is your only exit."

"What if we refuse such treatment?" a Durmstrang student asked, crossing his arms.

"Then you will be detained and questioned," Snape told him. "And not submitting to this test makes you seem awfully suspicious. And as I said, there are legitimate reasons for having been exposed to this potion. Headmaster Dumbledore, would you oblige?"

"Certainly, Severus," Dumbledore agreed, offering his hands up to him. Snape sprayed the potion on him, and as expected his hands glowed a bright blue. "Pretty," Dumbledore smiled, wiggling his fingers.

"Dumbledore uses a potion containing this ingredient for his arthritis," Snape explained. "I make it for him. So please line up when you're done with breakfast."

Snape spent a fretful hour spraying hands and separating those that showed signs to the side. He was not surprised when Madame Pomfrey and Moody both tested positive, as they had handled the body. A few Durmstrang students were positive, but it seemed as if exposure to the victim as he fell had done it. He was also unsurprised that Krum was negative, that would have been too easy. He had already tested Potter earlier, and his hands were also moonseed-free. Karkaroff was a surprise, however. His hands glowed, but ever so faintly. Snape pulled him aside.

"Do you use an ointment for arthritis?" Snape asked him.

"You know damn well I don't," Karkaroff snarled at him. "And you know damn well why I tested positive."

"I admit that I'm at a loss," Snape admitted to him.

"Do you not know that Moonseed is a preferred poison for ending it?" he asked brusquely. "I've carried a vial on my person at all times since the first war."

"So you can kill yourself?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Better than falling into enemy hands," Karkaroff told him. "It's virtually impossible to cure once taken, and though it is not as quick as other potions, at least it is sure. Perfect for if someone like Bella gets you."

"Do you have your vial now?" Snape asked him, nodding at the logic he had.

"No," he looked away, ashamed. "It went missing the day of the murder."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Snape asked, his voice vicious.

"How would it look?" Karkaroff explained, holding out his slightly glowing hands. "I would look guilty."

"Well, you do now," Alastair Moody accused. "You will be taken into custody tonight; I have called the aurors. Everyone that tested positive that didn't handle the body will be."

"Please, Severus," Karkaroff begged. "Please tell them that it wasn't me."

"I will work to find the truth," Snape promised, seeing the Aurors enter the room and knowing they didn't have much time.

"We have found the truth," Moody scoffed. "It has to be one of you Durmstrang lot. And it's pretty obvious who it was."

"Who knew you had the poison?" Snape asked, ignoring the obnoxious former auror.

"It is hardly a secret," Karkaroff told him, eyeing the approaching aurors. "All of Durmstrang, and anybody familiar with me and my habits."

"But if it was that well guarded, how was it taken from you?" Snape asked.

"I don't know," he reluctantly admitted. "It was in my pocket yesterday morning, that's all I know for sure."

"Can an accio summon it?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Karkaroff admitted. "I did not think of warding my own person."

"Surrender your wand, you death-eating filth," Moody growled at him as the aurors advanced, their wands drawn. "We would love an excuse to have one less of you to kill later."

"Surrender," Snape urged. "They will hurt you otherwise."

"I could run," Karkaroff calculated, looking at the aurors.

"Don't," Snape urged. "Please trust me. I believe that you didn't do it. Surrender and give me access to Krum and Mir's parents."

"My assistant will help you," Karkaroff nodded at the dark-haired youth beside him, and then looked to the side. "I authorize you to have full access."

"I will," Snape told him. "Insist on staying here with the other people that tested positive, do not let them transport you to Azkaban."

"Will they torture me?" he asked Snape, setting his jaw in determination.

"They will not," Snape assured him. "Dumbledore will have his hand in it, he is your ally. Don't trust Moody, he's irrational when it comes to death eaters. I will visit you this evening if I'm allowed."

"Veritaserum?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Snape considered. "But do not take it without an official ministry order written on official paper. You must go now, or they will start stunning."

"I will go peacefully!" Karkaroff announced loudly, holding up his hands to show that he had not drawn his wand. "The innocent should have no fear of scrutiny!"

"Innocent my . . ." Moody started.

"We are merely questioning people in connection with the poison," Dumbledore interrupted. "Headmaster Karkaroff, you are not under arrest, you are merely helping us clear up why you might have had contact with that poison. Professor Moody, this antagonism towards the Headmaster of Durmstrang is unacceptable. He is our guest, and is in the unenviable position of having lost a pupil tragically. You will treat him with the respect he deserves."

Moody's one good eye clearly communicated how much respect he thought Karkaroff deserved, but he nodded his head in agreement and backed away from the confrontation.

"Headmaster Karkaroff, would you please accompany me and the others that have had contact with this substance to my office please?" Dumbledore asked him. "We will work on clearing this up in a timely manner."

"Since when have you needed aurors to help you in your duties, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Karkaroff asked him, eyeing the aurors suspiciously.

"They are here to make sure we follow ministry procedure," Dumbledore explained. "They shouldn't interfere."

"I entrust myself to your care," he nodded at Dumbledore. "I trust you far more than the ministry."

"I am honored," Dumbledore told him, nodding his head. "This way."

Snape watched as Dumbledore led Karkaroff out of the room, and wondered at his colleague whom he had at one time called a friend. He was certainly capable of killing, but was he capable of killing one of his charges? A young, innocent boy? At least Dumbledore was in charge at least for now, he would try to be fair. And he was one of the few that could bring Moody to heel.

"Professor Snape, sir?" he heard a softly accented voice ask him. "I am Tolga Safer, Headmaster Karkaroff's aide."

"He said you might be able to assist me in talking to the parents of some Durmstrang students."

"I am completely at your disposal," he told him. "The Headmaster has told me to trust you and to assist you in any way that I am able."

"Excellent," Snape told him. "I believe Headmaster Karkaroff will be indisposed for at least the rest of the day, and perhaps longer. Today I wish to have a discussion with Viktor Krum alone, and then in a meeting with his parents and that of the decedent. Can you arrange that?"

"Easily, Professor," the black-haired youth nodded. "Which would you like first?"

"The parents," Snape decided, realizing that he wanted to know as much as possible before he interviewed Krum.

"I will have it set up within the hour," Safer nodded. "I am assuming you would want to portkey there, no? It would be easier."

"I am happy to portkey," Snape answered firmly, though he realized the risk he was taking. If the family wanted a hostage, he wasn't a bad choice. "I have a few things to prepare, I will meet you back here in one hour."

"Of course, sir," the aide nodded in respect, and then turned to leave.

Snape began his own list in his head, thinking of what he would need to interview grieving parents. At the top of his list was Veritaserum.


	6. Chapter 6 - Loyalty

Snape sat down in front of the four adults and tried to remember when he'd been that uncomfortable. A deatheater meeting when he knew that he'd failed the Dark Lord? Perhaps.

"We thank you for coming, Professor Snape," Mr. Krum greeted him in heavily accented but clear English. "It is very kind of you to come."

"Thank you," Snape nodded. "I wish to convey my condolences with your loss. We at Hogwarts are doing everything we can to find out what happened."

"Thank you," Mrs. Danchev held a handkerchief to her eye. "Dear Tolga told us you had some questions for us, that we could help."

"Yes, I would like to ask you some questions," Snape told them, and then wondered how to say the next part diplomatically. "But I would like to start by being honest. We have no reason to trust each other, there has long been distrust between our countries and our schools."

"We do not want to air these grievances," Mr. Krum said, putting up his hands.

"Neither does Hogwarts," Snape answered seriously. "Especially in this time of grief. So I have a solution so that we may ask each other questions and trust the answers without having to question and wonder. I have made a dilute version of Veritaserum, and if administered properly it should eliminate the ability to lie but it should still allow people to refrain from answering."

"I will not turn into a babbling idiot!" Mr. Krum insisted.

"Neither do I," Snape answered seriously. "I am willing to take it myself so that we are all on the same foot. You may end our conversation at any time."

"That sounds fair," Mr. Danchev agreed. "Professor Snape is correct; we have no reason to trust each other. What he suggests is fair."

"I am the potions master at Hogwarts," Snape told them as he produced several small cups and measured out a dose in each one. "Thank you for the trust you have extended my brewing."

"There is trust and there is trust," Mr. Danchev nodded. "You take it first."

Snape drank down the flavorless, colorless liquid and watched carefully to make sure that everybody took the potion as well. When Snape was satisfied, he sat back and looked at the parents. "Ask me something that I would be reluctant to answer," he told them.

"When is the last time you knew the touch of a woman?" Mr. Krum smirked.

"Good example," Snape nodded. "I refrain from answering. Now let me try and lie: I was with a woman . . ." he found his tongue tied.

"Ask me the same," Mr. Krum instructed.

Once they were all satisfied that the serum was working, Snape decided to open in a diplomatic matter. "I will allow you to ask the first questions," he told them. "What would you like to know?"

"What do you know of his death?" Mr. Danchev asked carefully.

"He was poisoned by Moonseed poison," Snape answered. "Our medi-witch tried very hard to save him, but Moonseed poison is nearly impossible to cure even if they know that's what it was. We also know that Karkaroff caned your son that morning for an infraction to do with Krum. People have told me that your son was the person who enforced authority and made it so Krum didn't embarrass his family and country. Several people have been found to have handled moonseed poison in the past few days, they are being interviewed now. The poison has most likely originated from Headmaster Karkaroff's person, where he kept a small, personal amount of the poison that has been stolen."

"Thank you for being so candid," Mr. Krum answered, exchanging glances with the other three. "We did not expect you to have so little subterfuge."

"I have a few questions as well," Snape acknowledged. "The first of which is what is the nature of the relationship between Viktor Krum and Dragonmir Danchev?"

"It is complicated," Mr. Krum answered. "I will try to explain. First, you must understand that our families are friends; allies. We have been so for many generations."

"I understand," Snape nodded.

"We have done much to protect Viktor," Mr. Danchev explained. "We all knew it was worth it. Mir volunteered to go with Viktor, to protect him. He was Viktor's bodyguard; but more too. He was like a brother, but chosen. I am not sure the English word for that; we say Kruven Brat."

"I understand," Snape nodded. "But Mir seems an . . . unusual choice for a bodyguard."

"You English thinking that it is all about muscles," Mr. Krum scoffed. "Mir was completely loyal, and that is the most important thing. Of secondary importance was the fact that he was a brilliant wizard, in fact one of if not the best student at Durmstrang. And as a younger son, he was free of familial obligations."

"Can you imagine the protection offered by someone completely loyal but also a very talented wizard?" Mrs. Krum asked. "That is not protection you can buy."

"I see," Snape nodded, understanding. Look at how much Bella's loyalty had helped the Dark Lord, and how his own disloyalty had cost him.

"But we did not want others to know their brotherhood," Mrs. Danchev explained, wringing her handkerchief. "So we had to employ subterfuge. Mir and Viktor acted like they were rivals, that Mir held the whip-hand. That let Mir learn more and protect better."

"You are sure," Snape observed.

"There is an oath in place," Mr. Krum nodded. "Mir would have died if he had ever intentionally betrayed Viktor."

"We thought if Mir were caned by Karkaroff on Viktor's insistence that it would give the person targeting Krum a potential ally to recruit," Mr. Danchev agreed. "We assumed the person would think Mir bitter or vengeful, and then confide in him. Viktor was quite reluctant to agree to it, but Mir saw the necessity immediately. He insisted despite Viktor's reluctance."

"There was someone targeting Krum?" Snape asked.

"Of course," Mr. Danchev nodded. "We assume that it was someone at one of the rival schools trying to influence the tournament."

"What has happened?" Snape asked.

"Viktor had his things gone through," Mrs. Krum volunteered. "He was stunned once and unconscious until Mir found him. Mir found a charm fixed on his cloak that drained strength and made his brain fuzzy. There have been attempts at unscrupulous potions given him, but Viktor is very good about detection charms."

"Nobody has informed Hogwarts staff about this," Snape told them.

"We thought it could be handled by our people," Mr. Krum nodded. "We did not put much faith in Dumbledore. We even considered it could be sanctioned by him."

"Dumbledore is not your enemy," Snape told them earnestly. "I know that not everyone at Hogwarts is equally trustworthy, but you should trust Dumbledore."

"Do you trust him?" Mrs. Krum asked sharply.

"With my life," Snape answered, and he realized how true that statement truly was. He was a little taken aback by the simplicity he expressed at what felt like a very complicated relationship.

"Then you do understand," Mrs. Krum nodded. "That is the trust that we have."

"Who do you think did it?" Snape asked baldly.

"Someone who wants Viktor," Mrs. Krum answered simply. "The only reason to remove Mir is to get to him."

"But they will not win," Mr. Krum insisted. "Bulgaria's honor is at stake. The sacrifice made by Mir and his family will not be forgotten."

"Mir died protecting Victor Krum," Mr. Danchev told him earnestly. "And now Viktor will bring honor to our country by competing in and winning the Tri-Wizard tournament."

"I see that Mir's sacrifice will be honored," Snape nodded. "And I will do my best to find out who did this."

"What if the murderer is from Hogwarts?" Mrs. Danchev asked.

"It doesn't matter where they're from," Snape promised them. "I will find the murder and see that they see justice, no matter who it is."

Mrs. Danchev nodded, saying, "We are gratified that you are taking this so seriously," he told Snape.

"Do you trust Headmaster Karkaroff?" Snape asked them.

"Not especially," Mr. Krum answered. "But he seems to be acting honorably."

"He has given us his condolences," Mrs. Danchev told him. "He said he would be sending up Mir's things, perhaps tomorrow."

"Karkaroff has had a lot to overcome in his tenure as headmaster," Mr. Krum explained. "He has had unfortunate . . . associations in his past. Even though we at Durmstrang are far more practical and sensible around issues such as . . . previous dark Lords, there is still a stigma of associating with someone that has lost. But Karkaroff has prevailed, assuring everyone of his constancy and patriotism, as well as his ability to prepare his pupils to be tough and ready for anything."

"But we still remember," Mrs. Krum nodded to him. "We still know the choices he has made."

"Then why allow him in charge of your children?" Snape asked.

"Surely you know the answer to that," Mrs. Krum answered pointedly, gesturing to Snape's arm that held the tattoo. "You of all people."

"Only a wizard that has truly known the dark can prepare students to face it," Mr. Krum answered, nodding. "Karkaroff may be a bit of an ass, but by Merlin he prepares the students for what is coming."

"If British wizarding does fall to the rising forces, all of Europe could follow," Mr. Danchev stated. "Dark Wizards with a thirst for power rarely are confined by borders. That is why we train, Professor. That is why we let our sons pay a terrible price to protect our interests. That is why we allow an ass like Karkaroff to be the headmaster, and that is why Mir allowed himself to be caned in order to try and lure the person hindering Viktor's success."

Snape nodded, deeply affected by the honor that these families showed. He found himself at a loss of what to say.

"I believe you to be a man that understands sacrifice," Mr. Danchev continued, his shrewd eyes measuring the man before him.

"I am," he answered simply. And there seemed to be nothing further to say.


	7. Chapter 7 - An Attempt

_AN: Back from vacation! Now let's see if we can get this thing solved. :)_

* * *

Snape found that Tolga Safer was instrumental in helping him navigate the culture of Durmstrang. But it was also clear that he understood the relationship between Mir and Viktor to be the same as the families had wanted everyone to think – that they were rivals, and that Mir was his minder. Snape noted that theme has he interviewed many of the Durmstrang students. He hesitated to interview Krum, knowing that he would want to have as much information as possible before then.

"It is late," Tolga told him. "Would you like to try and talk to Krum tonight?"

"Not tonight," Snape told him. "But perhaps first thing in the morning. Thank you, Mr. Safer. You have been most helpful today."

"It is my pleasure," Tolga answered, and then hesitated. "I know that you are reaching your own conclusions, professor, but I don't think that the Headmaster would harm Viktor."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Snape nodded. "Thank you for your assistance this evening. I have a few potions to check on and then I want to review the content of the interviews with our headmaster at our weekly tea."

"Pleasant evening," Tolga nodded. "I shall arrange a meeting with Krum for the morning."

Snape walked to his meeting with Dumbledore with his usual efficiency, but he had to admit that he was feeling stumped. The obvious culprit, Durmstrang's headmaster and former death eater, wasn't looking very guilty at the moment. Perhaps Krum, but after meeting with the parents he found that less and less likely. Could it be someone else? Who would want to hurt a young man like Mir? Was this an inner-school rivalry that he would have very little hope of uncovering?

"Welcome, Severus," Dumbledore smiled sadly when he entered. "I was hoping you would still be able to make our tea despite your other obligations."

"I am in need of a fresh mind on the matter," Snape admitted. "I have a list of suspects, but very little motive or opportunity."

"You seem quite determined," Dumbledore smiled wickedly. "Is it really that important for you to be able to punish the golden trio for previous actions?"

"They deserve it," Snape smirked.

"Even you would have to admit it's a bit of a grudge."

"Miss Granger offered it," Snape admitted. "I just took the opportunity. And you know how I feel about those children getting away with murder since they got here."

"And now you're clearing Harry of murder."

"Perhaps," Snape nodded. "Although it is clear that he didn't do it."

"I am surprised the level to which you are working on this without my request," Dumbledore smiled.

"You would have asked me had I not," Snape told him clearly, bristling a bit at the humor Dumbledore wad finding in the situation. "Let's not pretend that you wouldn't have. And this way I get to bend the three over my desk and make them regret their thievery."

"You can certainly hold a grudge," Dumbledore laughed. "But as it was Miss Granger that made you the offer, I will not interfere. Would you like tea, Severus?"

"Of course," Snape nodded. "Perhaps it will keep my mind sharp."

"So who are your suspects?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Obviously Karkaroff," Snape nodded. "He wouldn't hesitate if he felt he had reason to kill. But I just can't seem to believe it of him."

"Krum?" Dumbledore asked.

"After talking to his family and realizing that Mir was more of a body guard and blood brother than a minder, I don't think it's him either," Snape admitted. "I have yet to interview the teenager, but I'm already skeptical."

"Then the motive is yet unknown," Dumbledore mused.

"I am wondering if it is an inner-school rivalry that we are not privy to," Snape observed tiredly. "I just don't see how it would advantage anybody else."

Just then a house elf popped in with a tray of hot water. Snape watched as he ceremoniously added tea out of a silver tin, and it puzzled Snape. Usually they just drank tea from the kitchens.

"Throwing Krum off his game seems to be an obvious one," Snape observed. "However it seems a bit extreme to kill his friend when something else less deadly would work as well. A well aimed curse seems more efficient and effective."

"Durmstrang will want to blame Hogwarts," Dumbledore nodded, pouring out the tea and then doctoring his with five cubes of sugar and some milk.

Snape took his cup, adding simply a small sliver of lemon to his tea, set it down in front of him. It was almost unconscious the rules he followed whenever he ate with people – he didn't even think about the fact that he was waiting for Dumbledore to drink first.

"I say, this tea you sent me earlier today tastes odd," Dumbledore told him. "Where did you say you bought it?"

"I didn't send you any tea," Snape told him, eyes narrowing. Without conscious thought, he took his cup and sloshed it a bit, grimacing at the slight luminescent color around the edges of his cup.

Snape looked at the headmaster, his defenses slamming up. Was the headmaster trying to poison him? Had he outlasted his usefulness to the man? He hesitated for a moment just with the intensity of that question, surprised at the pain that accompanied it. He knew that every time he reported to the Dark Lord it could be his last, but the thought only conjured feelings of desire to protect himself, not pain and betrayal. But that was his first thought with the headmaster, and it struck him deeply.

Then, catching the headmaster's eyes, he realized that he had not been betrayed. The look on Dumbledore's face wasn't knowing and shrewd, but rather confused. This had been an attack by an outside party.

"The note said it was from you," Dumbledore told him. "Have I been poisoned?"

"Drink this," Snape told him, producing a potion he always carried with him. "And hold this bezoar in your mouth. I will call Poppy."

Minutes later, Dumbledore found himself in the infirmary being worked upon by both Poppy and Severus.

"Are you sure it's the same poison?" Poppy asked.

"Yes," Snape answered her. "But the potion loses potency this far in after it has been opened, so if it's the same bottle it shouldn't be fatal."

"Could it still harm him?" she asked.

"Of course," Snape snapped at her. "Do you have any antidote number seven? The one I brought you yesterday?"

"Right here," she told him, giving him the vial.

"Drink this, headmaster," Snape told him, holding it to his lips. "Poppy will spell a bezoar into your stomach as well."

Dumbledore obeyed, gasping for his breath around the nasty taste of the potion. "My eyes!" he cried out. "I can't see!"

"You will be able to soon," Snape told him with more certainty than he felt. "It's temporary. Stay calm, headmaster, between Poppy and I we will cure you."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and laid back, concentrating on focusing his considerable magic on conquering the poison singing through his system. He found the bezoar in his stomach as well as the one in his mouth, and he amplified the healing properties. But to do this he had to not focus on his eyesight. He gripped his wand, using it to focus his magic.

"He's improving," Poppy told Snape. "He's going to survive."

Snape nodded, not wanting to believe it yet, and monitored his heartbeat. "Can you see now, headmaster?" he asked quietly, his voice neutral.

Dumbledore opened his eyes, blinking. "Still blurry, but much better," Dumbledore told him. "Was it the moonseed poison?"

"Yes," Snape answered. "And the person who used it didn't know that it loses potency so quickly."

"Perhaps we shouldn't let them know or they might find alternate poisons," Dumbledore told him.

"Perhaps you should be in a coma for a spell?" Snape asked him.

"I have been getting on you about having a rest cure," Poppy told him.

"Fine, send me away," Dumbledore told him. "I trust Minerva in this, she can be the headmaster for a time. But Severus, why would I be the next target?"

"I'm not sure that you were," Snape told him. "Perhaps the person was aiming at me."

"Everyone knows that you have tea with me at that time," Dumbledore acknowledged. "It would have been easy indeed to send me the tea just before in hopes that I would use it during our time to thank you for the gift."

"Forgive me, Headmaster," Snape tilted his head down. "I saw you making tea differently, but didn't say anything. If I had, you may not have been poisoned."

"You take too much on yourself," Dumbledore told him. "This wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault in my first thought," Snape continued. "My first thought after I realized that it was poisoned was that you had intended to poison me."

"Severus, my boy," Dumbledore sighed, patting the gaunt man on his black-clad shoulder. "I am not surprised. You have been expecting me to betray you all along."

"Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," Dumbledore told him. "But trust is a choice, my boy; not a reaction. Your first reaction may have been to suspect I would hurt you, but you quickly chose to save me, showing your trust. That's what means more."

"It is hard sometimes to believe that you won't harm me," Snape admitted to himself. "You are the only one I have known that wouldn't."

"I am the first, not the only," Dumbledore corrected gently. "And I trust you too. Thank you for saving me."

"Poppy could have saved you by herself," Snape told him, uncomfortable with praise.

"Using the potions you brewed," Dumbledore chuckled. "I guess I am lucky that our poisoner is no potions master and didn't know it wouldn't kill me."

"It still could have, it just isn't as sure," Snape answered. "Where will you convalesce?"

"I have use of a cottage by the sea that I usually frequent in the summers," Dumbledore told him. "I shall borrow a house elf and have Poppy check on me, but I should be comfortable there."

"I will tell people you are in a dangerous coma," Snape agreed. "Poppy, you understand why this is important, right?"

"Of course, Professor," she answered primly. "I am not in the position I am in to not understand discretion."

"I will make the announcement at breakfast," Snape nodded. "Should I warn anybody that it is not as grievous as it seems?"

"Everyone should be observed for their reactions," Dumbledore shrewdly told Snape. "But you may tell Harry if he should press you."

"As you wish," Snape nodded, seeing the logic. It was important for Harry to have a normal reaction, but Dumbledore didn't want to worry him unduly.


	8. Chapter 8 - Grief and Rage

_AN: I'm a little unsure of this chapter, I wanted to show some amount of softening for Snape but I wonder if it's a little too out of character for him. Please let me know what you think._

* * *

Snape walked back to his office, lost in thought. In the end it had been Minerva that had given the announcement of Dumbledore's coma, praising the headmaster's survival to the quick thinking and competence of the school's potion master who was with him at the time and narrowly avoided poisoning himself. Snape felt his ears burn at the unfamiliar praise, and glared at any student cheeky enough to smile at him.

"There will be new regulations around food," Minerva had told the student body in her slight highland burr. "No food will be consumed outside of the school dining hall where the magic of the house elves prevents any poison from entering. No student or staff will be allowed any food outside of the dining hall, and all trips to Hogsmeade are suspended until the culprit can be found."

Snape agreed with the sanctions, but he also had to wonder at keeping the school open and the tri-wizard tournament going forward. Wouldn't a student's death and the attempted poisoning of two staff be enough to call it off?

To his surprise, as he neared his office a student waited for him. His eyes widened slightly at seeing this particular student waiting for him, but he covered his surprise with a sneer.

"Out for your morning constitutional, Potter?" he sneered.

"They let me out, as obviously I couldn't have poisoned Dumbledore while in custody."

"How convenient for you," he snapped at the boy.

"So I guess you can take a paddle to me at will, then," Harry spat back.

"The terms of the agreement with Miss Granger include clearing your name fully, which doesn't happen until the real culprit is identified," Snape snapped back at him. "I believe Sunday night was the day of reckoning. I can wait until then."

"Is that all this is to you?" he yelled at Snape. "Some sort of game to be able to punish your enemy's son?"

"I do not feel at leisure to discuss my motivations with an emotional Gryffindor," Snape seethed. "Kindly leave now before I must start assigning detentions."

"You could have saved him!" Harry yelled now, all semblance of restraint thrown off. "You were with him for Merlin's sake! How could you let him drink poison?"

Snape, not disagreeing with the sentiment expressed by the teen, merely glared and brushed passed Harry in order to enter his office.

"Answer me, damn you!" Harry yelled, tears blinding him. "Or are you happy that he has been done away with? Funny nobody is suspecting the man who is a potion master and a death eater for poisoning people!"

Snape turned to make an angry retort, and found himself with his arms full of angry young teenager who was attempting to knock him over in anger. It was clear the lad had little experience in being the aggressor in a physical altercation, and within a few breaths Snape had him firmly on the ground, his arm pinned painfully behind him and utterly unable to move. Snape held him there for a moment, each of them catching their breaths and Harry trying desperately hard not to cry as he fought and twisted in an attempt to break free.

Snape checked himself, forcing his aggressive reaction to calm, and said in a softly threatening voice, "Your grief is some excuse, but if you do not cease this completely nonsensical attack upon my person you will swiftly discover why my Slytherins do not dare disobey me."

"You killed him!" Harry sobbed, his body shuddering with his anger and grief.

"Fool," Snape calmly told him with menace. "If you try to fight your way out of an unbreakable hold you can break your arm. Now I'm going to release you, and we are going to go into my office where privacy is more assured, and we are going to have a conversation in which you will listen to me and show me at least a modicum of respect. Do you agree?"

Harry nodded, realizing he had little choice.

"Verbally, please," Snape insisted, though he released some of the pressure on the lad's arm.

"Yes, sir," he answered, sounding for once not like the angry and spiteful teen raging at his tormentor but rather a child who felt lost.

Snape let him go, pushing himself up and watching as the young man tried to straighten his robes and regain his dignity. Snape, assuming the young Gryffindor would keep his word, swept into his office and motioned for his door to shut behind Harry. He quickly cast muffling and privacy charms, even though no portraits hung in his office to invade his privacy.

"The usual consequence for physically attacking a teacher is expulsion," Snape told him in a neutral voice. "Although occasionally this punishment has been commuted into a sound caning. It was foolish to do so in the sight of so many portraits, as it leaves me little choice."

"What does it matter?" Harry answered, suddenly despondent. "It doesn't matter, not if Dumbledore dies. I don't care what you do to me."

"You may feel differently bent over the desk," Snape snapped at him, and then sighed. "You may have been laboring under a false premise."

"What?" he asked dully.

"I want you to perceive for a moment what would be a good course of action if someone were actually poisoned," Snape told him, keeping his voice neutral. "Perhaps if someone were poisoned but was saved by the quick thinking of a bystander. Would it be best to show the poisoner that the person has made a full recovery or would it be better to play along that the person was indeed disabled?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, not understanding.

Snape sighed, wishing this boy was just a touch more Slytherin. Really, how much clearer could he be?

"Really Potter?" he asked. "Have you no imagination? I'm trying to tell you that Dumbledore is fine."

"But he was poisoned!"

"He was," Snape agreed. "But Madame Pomfrey and I made short work of it. The headmaster is a bit tired, and is recuperating at an undisclosed location as we speak."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, his eyes hopeful. Then, his eyes shuddered with doubt and he said, "How do I know you aren't lying?"

"What possible benefit do I have in lying?" Snape asked, exasperated. "I mean, other than staving off your frightening physical attacks upon my person?"

Harry grimaced at the dig, but Snape could see he was starting to believe. "So you and Dumbledore are doing this to try and solve who is the poisoner?"

"Yes," Snape answered simply. "And we would endeavor it a great personal favor if you in particular would follow the guidelines set by the Deputy Headmistress, as you are likely on the list of targets as well."

"I will try," Harry nodded, beginning to relax.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and the Deputy Headmistress swept in the room. "I see the portraits have been reliable," she told them as she looked over the Potions Professor and the miscreant. "I trust you have it well in hand, Professor?"

"Are you checking to make sure I hadn't killed the lad, Professor?" he grimaced. "As you see he is still currently in one piece."

"I know you can keep your temper when you want to," she smirked back at him. "Even given extreme provocation. Would you like me to see to the student's discipline in this matter?"

"I believe I have it well in hand," Snape answered, glaring at the teen.

"Can he really cane me, Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, his voice uncertain.

"He may," she answered firmly. "He may also call for your expulsion, if what the portraits told me was correct. Usually heads of house discipline their own students should such a need arise, but for a physical attack it is up to the discretion of the injured party and the approval of the acting Headmaster."

"Do you approve of me caning the boy?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow at the Deputy Headmistress in surprise. He had expected her to be ruffled and making excuses for her precious Gryffindor.

"Of course I do, why else would I come?" she asked. "Attacking a professor is egregious indeed, and not to be dealt with by a few detentions. As long as Professor Snape isn't blinded by anger and can approach it reasonably, then I approve. It was seen by too many witnessing portraits for me to expect anything less."

"But Professor!" Harry protested.

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry full in the face then, and with such a stern countenance that it caused Harry to look down in guilt. That look told him what any amount of words would not convey – her disappointment in him, her sadness, but also her strength. "And I expect you to take your punishment like a true Gryffindor," she told him firmly, giving him back some measure of dignity.

"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed, looking down. He wouldn't fight and argue about it as he was tempted to do, he would obey his head of house. Shame burned his cheeks to even find himself in this position.

"Thank you, Professor," Snape nodded to her.

"Let me know if you need anything further," she told him, sweeping out of the door.

Harry felt his stomach sink as he heard the door click, realizing there was no excuse for what he had done. What would Uncle Vernon have done if he had attacked him like he had Snape? And Uncle Vernon was a petty dictator that he could outrun if strictly necessary. Professor Snape was much more frightening.

"Do you have anything to say on your behalf?" Snape asked with interest.

"I was distraught," Harry told him. "But I know that is really no excuse. I wanted to hurt something, and you were easy to blame. I'm sorry, Professor."

"Remove your robe and bend over the table there," Snape told him firmly, trying hard not to be impressed by the boy's answer. He understood the situation with very little scolding. He always secretly admired the Head of Gryffindor's house ability to rule the disorderly bunch, and he just saw a piece of how she accomplished it.

Harry obeyed, fumbling a bit with his robe. Moving a few items, he bent over the table then, his stomach flipping in protest as he awaited what he assumed would be a very painful punishment. He had never been caned, but he had heard stories. Given his Aunt Marge's approval of the punishment he assumed it had to be simply horrible. He felt his lips go numb in anxiety.

"Accio cane," Snape barked, and a cane flew from his cupboard into his hand with a sharp crack. Harry winced, realizing that was about to be laid over his backside. "Six of the best, Mr. Potter," Snape told him formally. "Do you understand why you are receiving this punishment?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, trying to keep his voice level. "I attacked a Hogwarts professor."

Harry then heard Snape mumbling a spell, and he glanced back to see him casting the spell on the cane. Was it to increase the pain? Prevent healing? Harry's legs twitched in anticipation.

Snape said nothing else as he tapped the miscreant's bottom in order to take aim. He smirked a bit as he did so, knowing what he was about to do but also feeling that Potter deserved at least the fear of it. He raised the cane high, and brought it down on the trouser-clad backside presented to him.

Harry heard the swish and the crack, and anticipated the pain. But then the resulting pain never came beyond the mildest of taps.

"One," Snape said, and then cracked down the next stroke. "Two."

"But . . ." Harry protested after the second stroke hurt no more than the first.

"I hope you recognize the mercy given to you," Snape told him firmly, pausing the caning. "Your real punishment will be an extra stroke of the paddle applied on Sunday night. Had you attacked me in a less public manner, that is all you would have received. However, since you attacked me publicly and we are in a tenuous political position with me trying to clear your name, I didn't think my showing you any favoritism would be a good idea."

"Favoritism?" Harry asked, his mouth agape. "Me?"

"You surely don't think that another student attacking me in such a way would receive a fake caning, do you?" Snape asked. "I have charmed the cane to deliver a glamour to your backside, that any scan of your health or physical inspection would show that you had been soundly punished. Do try to flinch a bit when you sit tomorrow."

"But why?" Harry asked. "You seemed keen to paddle me before, I would think that Professor McGonagall approving a caning would be like Christmas to you."

"Let's say that I have some sympathy to your grief," Snape answered in a quiet voice devoid of its usual sarcasm. "Though do not expect this mercy on Sunday night. I wish to paddle you for actual transgressions that I feel are deserving, and this is not that situation. Now hold still, we have four more to go."

Snape applied the last four strokes with gusto, and then banished the cane back to the cupboard. He saw Harry push himself off the table, his face still looking confused.

"Don't tell anyone beyond your two sidekicks what happened here today," he told Harry firmly. "And do try to at least act like you've been soundly punished. The portraits will spread it around if you limp a bit."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, rubbing his backside at the tingly tickle from the glamour. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"You are welcome, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, surprised at the respect Harry used in addressing him. He couldn't remember a time the boy had willingly showed him this type of respect. "And please have a care."

"I will sir," Harry answered, affecting a slight limp as he exited the office.

Snape watched him go, wondering a bit at himself. Why had he given the lad mercy? But he knew why – and that answer lay in the night that Lily had died. His grief had overtaken him, caused him to go to Dumbledore in anger and attack him for not protecting Lily. Instead of Azkaban or at least a rather painful hex, the man had given him firm sympathy and a place to vent his anger and grief. He had never had that before, and it was what made him staunchly Dumbledore's man from that day forward. How could he give less to Lily's son?


	9. Chapter 9 - Krum talk

Soon after Harry had left his office, he heard another knock at the door.

"Come in," he barked, and was surprised when he saw the broad, unsmiling face of Viktor Krum enter the room.

"Tolga told me you wanted to meet," Krum told him firmly. "Is now good time for you?"

"Yes, come in," Snape told him, pointing to a chair. "I would normally offer you tea, but under present circumstances . . ."

"I do not like the English tea anyway," Krum told him, waving it off as if it had no importance. "Niceties do not change that Mir is dead."

"They do not," Snape agreed gravely, seeing the pain in the young man's eyes. This more than anything convinced him that Viktor was innocent.

"Is Headmaster Karkaroff going to be released?" he asked.

"Soon, most likely," Snape told him. "They are interviewing him. It got a bit . . . interrupted with Dumbledore being disabled."

"Has he been arrested?"

"No," Snape answered. "Right now the ministry is officially taking the position that the headmaster is merely a material witness and helping them sort out relationships and the like. He is not even listed as a suspect."

"He is a bastard," Krum confirmed. "But he didn't kill Mir."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," Snape admitted, deciding that Krum was someone he wanted to be forthright with. "However, the ministry is not of a similar opinion."

"They are idiots," Krum said without passion. "And their idiocy is going to let Mir's killer walk free."

"Tell me about Mir," Snape invited.

"You know enough about him," Viktor told him. "My parents said that they . . . informed you of our relationship and duties. I come to ask you have you found out who killed my friend."

"I do not know yet, Mr. Krum," Snape answered smoothly. "Who do you think it was?"

Viktor snorted, leaning back in his chair and assessing Snape shrewdly. "Many at my school say it was Hogwarts to throw me off my game, that they fear I will win. One person has even said Madame Maxime, as we cannot trust one of such . . . obvious mixed blood."

"I asked for your opinion," Snape reminded him calmly.

"And I am under no obligation to give it," Krum answered, equally enigmatic. "But at present I can tell you that I don't have a firm one."

"I have heard you placed under suspicion," Snape intoned.

Viktor snorted. "Then Mir's subterfuge worked. Are you of that opinion?"

"I am not," Snape decided to be honest. "I think it most unlikely. About as unlikely as Harry Potter."

Viktor scoffed. "That boy is no killer," he told Snape. "There is no genius behind this tale, or they would have picked a more likely suspect."

"So not Potter and not you, who does that leave us?"

"A school full of jealous wizards trained to think the fittest survive, a school of charming but deadly women who would woo and then curse, and a school where two contestants were entered illegally and seems poised on the brink of a civil war."

"Nicely put," Snape nodded. "You see my dilemma."

"My school is the obvious culprit," Krum continued. "We are . . . conservative. We are much more . . . practical about the teaching and application of the dark arts. For us, the fit survive and the weak deserve no mercy. We value blood lines and loyalty above all, and shun the more liberal views of muggles and creatures. Our headmaster is a former death eater, as I'm sure you're aware."

"I am aware," Snape nodded.

"We know what you British think of us," Krum continued. "Bigots, hard, and unfeeling. And after the time spent here I cannot say that you are entirely wrong. Someone from Durmstrang motivated properly would kill without remorse."

"You are severe on your school," Snape observed.

"Only if you think being hard is a bad thing," Krum answered levelly.

"True," Snape conceded.

"The Beauxbatons is also suspect," Krum continued. "Far more liberal than Durmstrang, they have a mixed blood as their headmistress and there are rumors of students with creature heritage. Though seeming charming and mannered, make no mistake that their allure is deadly. Though their school is a palace set to breed civility, it could also breed avarice. And poison is a woman's weapon, is it not?"

"Traditionally," Snape conceded.

"Liberal about bloodlines do not mean that one from their school would have any problems killing and then framing your Harry Potter."

"But we have no person of suspect," Snape answered.

"And then your own school," Krum continued. "Nobody has solved why the under-aged child was named as a champion, nor has anybody sought to prevent what could be deadly for him. He is obviously under-aged and under-trained, yet still he competes. And we at Durmstrang know how the dark is rising in England, despite the assurances and soft words of your headmaster. I wonder how a school as disingenuous as this one thinks it earns any trust? Seems the perfect place to hide a murderer."

"You are accurate, however unflattering," Snape nodded.

"And you ask me who has done it? Who has killed Mir?" Krum asks, his voice deepening with emotion. "I will tell you who; someone who has no pity in their heart. Someone who is so duplicitous that they think the outcome of this tournament is more important than people's lives. Someone desperate."

"Can you think of someone like that?" Snape asked him.

"I think when this is over we will see that this is about more than the tournament," Krum conceded. "I just do not see why the tournament would elicit this strong of a response. At Durmstrang we are not shocked by murder; it is a reality that we live with. To be shocked means to not think, to not be practical. I think when this is done we will see that it relates to the rise of your Dark Lord."

"I hope you are wrong," Snape told him. "But I am afraid you are not."

"This attack is on me," Krum told him sadly. "But they will fail. Killing my Kruven Brat does not discourage me, it raises my courage. I shall win this tournament to show that the killers of Dragonmir Danchev will not be successful."

Snape, taken aback by the bravery shown by the young Drumstrang student, was caught off guard when his wand began to heat. He had nearly forgotten that he had given Potter a way to contact him, and it was now being activated. He felt a stab of what felt like annoyance, though he could recognize some anxiety in it. What did the brat need?

"Please let me know if you think of anything else that I need to know," Snape told him.

"You are an honorable man, Professor Snape," Krum nodded. "I shall tell you."

"Thank you," Snape answered, cognizant of the honor Krum extended him. "I shall keep you informed as well."

"Then in all honor I have one other thing to tell you," Krum said. "I had not thought to help you in this way, partially because it is . . . not practical. It is more of an observation or a feeling."

"Anything can help at this point," Snape told him. "I would appreciate any observations you might have for me."

"I meant what I said about the person being no genius," Krum told him. "I do not thing whoever did this deed had it well thought out. Your Harry Potter was framed, but why? Surely the person would realized that there was no evidence of him murdering Mir and he would be cleared. And then the attempt on you and the headmaster was more . . . tactical. And it cleared Harry, effectively nullifying the earlier framing. I believe that the actions were committed very differently."

Snape thought for a moment, seeing the logic, but unsure if he agreed with all the implications. "Thank you for your observations," Snape told him.

"If I can be of further help, please let me know," Krum told him. "And my family would appreciate you keeping us informed as you are able without compromising your investigation."

"I will," Snape nodded. "I hold you and your family in the utmost respect."

"And we you," Krum replied.

As Snape made his way to where he knew Potter was located, he realized that he had found the conversation with Krum less than fully satisfying. He had been impressed with how the teen had understood the politics behind the matter, but he was still a stubborn Durmstrang student bent on honor and courage.

And now Potter had called him with the charmed chess piece Snape had provided to him, and he wondered the situation that he would come upon. It didn't feel urgent, and surely if it was life and death Flitwick or McGonagall would have no problems dealing with it. Why was he required?

As he entered the dining room, he came upon Harry in the middle of a scene. Smirking to himself at causing the golden boy a little embarrassment, he said calmly, "Dear me, Potter. I would think that a boy who had just been caned by my hand this morning would be able to stay out of trouble until at least lunch time."


	10. Chapter 10 - A Life on the Soul

_As he entered the dining room, he came upon Harry in the middle of a scene. Smirking to himself at causing the golden boy a little embarrassment, he said calmly, "Dear me, Potter. I would think that a boy who had just been caned by my hand this morning would be able to stay out of trouble until at least lunch time."_

Potter reddened at that reference, but Snape mercilessly said it to establish his non-favoritism. Not that he had to do that for Hogwarts, everyone here knew how he tormented to boy in class. But Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were watching as well. And if the little fiend didn't get the caning he deserved, he could at least have a bit of the embarrassment. It would serve their little fiction well.

"Harry has been accused," Hermione explained quickly, trying to have some control in the matter. Although, Snape observed a sharp look directed at Harry that Snape guessed meant he hadn't been forthcoming with his friends. "And we thought you were the best person to call. There is some sort of honor code with Durmstrang that we don't understand."

"Who accuses Potter?" Snape asked, curious.

"I do," Viktor Krum declared, entering the room behind Snape. "As the victim's closest person of concern I demand that Harry Potter be returned to custody until I am satisfied that he is not the killer."

"I made the complaint, Krum," one of the other Durmstrang students protested.

"And think you that you have more of a claim than the Krum family, Alexander Karlsson?" he challenged.

"Mir was from Durmstrang," Karlsson continued. "Potter should be in our custody."

"I am satisfied with the honor of the leaders of Hogwarts," Krum decided. "I think it would be better for him to be held somewhere familiar. Our ship is not set up for prisoners anyway. Does anybody dispute the Krum family claim over this matter?"

There were several hasty shakes of the heads from the Durmstrang students, and Snape got the distinct feeling that things were not as they seemed. "Then he is to be held until my satisfaction is reached to his innocence," Krum announced, daring someone to challenge him further.

 _What an odd turn of phrase,_ Snape thought as he watched Krum carefully. He wasn't angry or accusatory, and he seemed to bear no malice to Potter. And he had admitted to Snape himself earlier that he didn't think it was Potter anyway. What was going on? Snape got the distinct feeling that Krum was protecting Potter in some way.

"Hogwarts honors the code of Durmstrang," he heard McGonagall answer. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but perhaps it's for the best. You will return to the warded quarters where you were before."

"But he didn't do it!" Snape heard Ron protest, but without the whininess he usually associated with the red-headed sidekick. And Potter was, for such an incidence, surprisingly quiet. Looking at the golden trio, he suddenly realized that this was a plan. Not even the Granger girl was panicking.

"It doesn't matter if he did it or not," Snape supplied helpfully, deciding to support the plot. "This is a matter of honor. I will escort the youngster to his chambers."

"In the honor code of Durmstrang if a ranking member of a noble house formally accuses someone else of a heinous crime than that person is held until it is investigated," he could hear Hermione explain. "It is a very serious thing to do, however, and if the accuser is wrong he risks a counter-accusation that could mean his honor would be impugned."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," McGonagall nodded, ignoring Hermione. "Mr. Krum, if you would join me in my office to discuss the nature of the complaint."

"I will join you after I deliver Potter," Snape told them, nodding at the deputy headmistress.

"Very good. See that a house elf brings up his meal, as this one was interrupted," she told Snape curtly.

"Of course," he nodded. "I will see to the student's . . . comfort."

Snape gestured to Potter to follow him, and the boy surprisingly did without argument. They walked in silence to his room, which they both entered without comment as Snape flicked his wand to raise privacy wards.

"That was well planned," Snape told the boy without preamble.

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered him, as if Snape had been involved all along. "Krum set it up in case I was accused. He said that it would be likely, and he did this to protect me. That way I can be here in the room and let go when he says."

"That was what I thought," Snape nodded. "And you are now safely ensconced here. Should I call the house elf for a meal for you or would you like to do it?"

"I can," Harry blushed. "But you didn't have to announce that you'd caned me."

"Of course I did," Snape answered in innocent tones. "However would our fiction work if we kept it a secret?"

"It's embarrassing!" Harry protested.

"A small sacrifice for the cause," Snape waved his hand. "It would have been a surprise to nobody who knew the facts of the situation, given the number of portraits that saw the altercation. I assure you that many people in the room already knew."

"Next time I'll attack you in private then, sir," Potter asked, decided that cheeky worked better than angry. "Are we private enough here?"

"Cheeky brat," he told the boy, but without venom. Why was he, of all people, feeling a sudden and strange comradery with the brat? "Now is there anything else that you need?"

"You don't have to take care of me, you know," Harry said, his voice carefully neutral.

"I do know," Snape nodded. "But I seem to continually be put that position, however."

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered.

Arching a brow, Snape looked at the youngster. He did not seem the cocky child who had laughed at danger for the past years. He seemed almost worried.

"Good manners will not get you off your punishment," Snape told him in an acerbic tone.

Harry flushed. "I know that," Harry answered. "Would you rather I was rude to you?"

"It is infinitely more familiar," Snape answered levelly. "But perhaps not better. I will look in on you later."

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered, with a slight stress on the honorific to emphasize that he would keep being polite.

"As you were, Potter," Snape answered, sweeping out of the room.

Snape had very little time to contemplate Potter's continued manners as he was soon in the deputy Headmistress' office and all eyes swiveled towards him.

"Potter is safely ensconced in his cell," he told them.

"He is not guilty," Krum confirmed, nodding. "We set this up for if someone would make an accusation."

"Well done," McGonagall approved. "We thank you for the friendship you have extended to our student."

"I have lives on my soul," Krum nodded. "Perhaps this kind act is a bit of my . . . what is the word? Izkuplenie? Maybe atonement?"

Snape's instincts tweaked at that word, and he looked at Krum carefully. "You are a young man," he observed. "How do you have lives on your soul?"

"I am surprised you do not know," Krum answered sadly. "Where I am from it is . . . known. There was articles about it when I became a professional player. There was an incident that happened while I was younger during a Quidditch practice. It was an accident, a collision between myself and another flyer. I did not intend for this to happen, but the other boy was younger and less experienced. We both fell to the ground, and he did not survive."

"Were there charges?" Snape asked carefully.

"The aurors in our country ruled it an accident," Krum shook his head. "And our families came to an . . . arrangement. Kurvavi pari was paid."

"Blood money?" Snape guessed.

"Yes," Krum nodded. "It is a custom, even for an accidental death. My parents paid the money and I paid in a favor by enrolling in his school, even though it has made my professional work more difficult."

"The boy who died was connected to Karkaroff?" Snape asked critically. Why was this the first he was hearing of this?

"His nephew," Krum confirmed.

"The man doesn't seem to resent you," Snape observed.

"He acts as if his nephew did him a favor," Krum declared in a biting tone. "One younger son traded for the prestige of having the famous Bulgarian seeker at your school. I will never forget that boy's face in my life, but Karkaroff saw it as an opportunity. Even though I was not professional yet, they knew it was only a matter of time."

"Do you have atonement?" Snape asked, shocking himself by asking the question. "Izkuplenie?"

"You are a man who also has lives on your soul," Krum observed. "I think you know the answer."

"Atonement come at the end," Snape told him, agreeing. "It is not something to be paid for by money or favors."

"Nor even with forgiveness," Krum added. "Though Karkaroff says he does not hold me to blame."

"Are there more family that might?" Snape asked.

"I am unsure, I only worked with Karkaroff," Krum explained. "Should I contact my parents for that information?"

"If you would be so kind," Snape said with a nod. "It is probably nothing, but it is good to check."

"I will owl them immediately," Krum agreed. "If they do not know it would the work of a day or two at most to learn."

"Tell nobody else what you want," Snape advised him. "We do not know whom else might be listening."

"You are very dramatic, Severus," McGonagall interrupted them, clearly thinking that their tête–à–tête had gone on long enough.

"Perhaps, but I am also alive," Snape told her. "Precious few other spies can say the same thing. I have learned to trust my instincts."

"Then we shall trust them," she nodded. "Was Harry overly distraught?"

Snape snorted derisively. "I believe him to be perfectly satisfied with the outcome of his plan."

"Yes, but time in a detention room must be so hard on him," McGonagall argued. "Particularly after you were . . . direct with him given his earlier behavior with you."

"I believe he his handling his adversity as a true Gryffindor," Snape answered diplomatically, even though this did not sound like a compliment to him he knew that the head of Gryffindor would feel differently.

"He is a lion at heart," McGonagall recognized with a curt nod. "Very well then, I shall leave him in your capable hands, Severus."

"Just to clear him," Snape told her firmly. "I do not want to hear any ideas past that inevitable conclusion."

"Of course," she smiled at him, and he could see why the cat was her animagus form.

"When should I be satisfied with the investigation?" Krum asked. "The next contest is on Tuesday, yes?"

"Yes," Snape answered. "Sunday night if not earlier, that student has an appointment with me that evening."

"Your appointment could be in his quarters," McGonagall told him. "We want to make sure he is well-rested before the event."

"Of course," Krum answered. "I do not want to give anyone reason to say I did not win fairly. Please tell me when you would wish me to have him released."

"That is the safest place for him now," McGonagall told Krum. "I promise to let you know when he should be released."

And with that, Snape realized he had more investigating to do. And he would have to talk to someone who knew more about Quidditch than he did.


	11. Chapter 11 - Scaring Weasley

Chapter 11

Unfortunately, the persons he found that knew a lot about Quidditch were named Weasley. He supposed that Ron would be the best one to ask as he was already taken into Harry's confidence. That, and the idea of actually trying to have a real conversation with the twins made him shudder. He hoped he would not have to resort to that.

"Um, hi Professor," he heard Ron say as he approached his desk. "You said you wanted me to stay after class?"

Snape read the nervousness in the boy, and smiled a bit at the likely cause. At least his ability to intimidate wasn't lost on this young redhead.

"I have a few questions I'm hoping you can help me with," he told the lad smoothly.

"Oh, so this wasn't, you know?" Ron asked.

"Your punishment will take place on Sunday night as scheduled," Snape told him. "I thought I had made that clear."

"Yes, well, I was just wondering if something changed," Ron explained lamely. "You know, for plans and everything."

"Are you nervous about your impending paddling?" Snape asked him, cocking an eyebrow. "I have seen barely a tremor from your partners in crime."

"Yes, well, maybe its because they don't really know what's coming," Ron explained. "I mean, they are from muggle families, and they said that their schools didn't use the cane."

"I see," Snape nodded. "But you are from a magical family. And a traditional one at that."

"Not Malfoy sort of traditional," Ron confessed. "But you know, my mum is quite handy with that spoon of hers. Is a paddle like that?"

"It is much worse, Mr. Weasley," Snape assured him. "I use a large plank paddle, and it covers the entire backside at once. There are also specially beveled holes in it."

"What are the holes for?" Ron gulped.

Snape smiled inwardly, enjoying frightening this foolish Gryffindor. He could bet this particular redhead would never steal from his supplies again. "The holes make the paddle move through the air faster," Snape explained. "And prevents a cushion of air from forming at the surface to be paddled. In short, it makes it hurt more."

"More?" Ron squeaked.

"Of course," Snape told him smoothly. "But when applied to bare skin the holes can leave blisters, but I find that bare skin is rarely necessary. Do you agree?"

"Yes!" Ron managed to squeak out.

"In fact, the only time I have ever had to have bare skin is when the intended recipient tried to cheat – extra pants, pants stiffening spells, that sort of thing," he told him in a confidential way. "But I don't think I'll have any of that problem from you, will I?"

"No!" Ron insisted. "I mean, no sir, of course not. I can take my medicine."

"Excellent," Snape replied, flicking an imaginary fleck off of his knee. "Now then, we can have the discussion I was intending to have before you sidetracked me. I wish to ask you some questions about Quidditch."

"Quidditch?" Ron squeaked.

Snape considered the fourth year student in front of him. Perhaps he shouldn't have frightened him so much, but Snape had to confess to enjoying watching the brat squirm a bit. But he also wanted the teen to be calm enough to think and answer his questions. He sighed in consternation, yes, he should not have been so harsh on the lad.

"Yes, that infernal game that seems to rank as high as academics at this school," Snape answered in a softer voice than before. "I understand that you and your family are . . . enthusiastic about the sport, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about the professional part of the sport."

"Yes, that infernal game that seems to rank as high as academics at this school. I understand that you and your family are . . . enthusiastic about the sport, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about the professional part of the sport."

"Of course," Ron answered, seeming a bit flustered. "But why me? I mean, why me, sir?"

"Because you are already in my confidence," Snape answered smoothly. "I would prefer to not have my line of questioning alert any potential suspects. I also understand that your family is . . . quite fond of the sport."

"I will try to help," Ron nodded, suddenly happy in the change of topic.

"Are you familiar with the incident that happened with Krum and another underage wizard that resulted in the other wizard's death?"

"Of course," Ron answered eagerly. "It was in all the Quidditch magazines."

"Can you acquaint me with the details?"

"Sure," Ron answered. "Krum was part of the Quidditch club that is before the national team, here we call it the prep team. He was only thirteen at the time, but was considered a prodigy, you know? Anyway, there was another bloke who I think was fourteen and they were both going after the snitch. They went up wicked high – so high that nobody knows for sure what happened because of the clouds. The both fell to the ground from a great height, but Krum was able to revive enough to save himself. The other bloke died."

"What was the other boy's name?"

"Radko something. I don't remember," Ron's forehead creased.

"Why was nobody able to save him?"

"I think the weather was the problem," Ron explained. "People didn't realize it was happening until it was too late. Krum was at hospital for a month after as well, he didn't die but was hurt."

"Then what happened?"

"So there was this big investigation, and Krum was found not guilty. That's important, because he couldn't play professionally if he had been guilty."

"Of course," Snape prompted. "But what did the boy's family do?"

"Don't know," Ron answered. "I know there was some blood money paid, and Viktor agreed to go to Durmstrang because Karkaroff was they kid's uncle or something. There was an article about how they were able to still let Krum be a professional even at Durmstrang."

"Did Radko have a brother or sister?" Snape asked pensively.

"Oh, yeah, he had a brother!" Ron exclaimed. "I remember now. The bloke appealed the not guilty verdict or something, and the Bulgarian Quidditch League threatened to sue him or something. I don't remember it all. I could see if Hermione knows, she said she would wait out in the hallway for me."

Snape flicked his hand in permission, and soon he had both Gryffindors sitting in front of him. Hermione looked worried and tired, not at all the confident girl that had engaged his services such a short time ago.

"I haven't read anything about the Quidditch," she confessed as she looked at her hands. "But I can go to the library and read back copies. I should at least be able to find out full names of everyone involved."

"Excellent," Snape told her. He had never seen her like this before, and he realized that she was deeply worried for her friend. "It is quite reasonable that you don't know everything, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, sir," she answered. "But I feel as if I should have known about such a big thing with Krum. You see, we have become friends to a degree."

"I have eyes," he replied, but without biting sarcasm. "I remember the Yule ball."

"How is the investigation going otherwise, sir?" she asked.

Snape hesitated, wondering what he was going to tell her. Deciding that it would be better to have someone halfway intelligent to go over the facts, he decided to be candid. "Krum has means and opportunity, but no motive that I could find. And to be honest, I just don't buy that it's him. Karkaroff might have opportunity and certainly means, but motive is also hard with him as well. He's perfectly capable of murder, but why would he do it? Doesn't he want Krum to win?"

"Are there other suspects, then?" Hermione asked.

"Too many and not enough," Snape answered. "But I believe firmly that it is someone from Durmstrang, how else could have known about the potion and retrieved it in the first place? Who else could have treated Mir to such ethnic delicacies that were laced with poison without raising suspicion? I believe our suspect pool is living on that boat in the lake."

"So how do we find the bugger?" Ron asked, frustrated. "Could it be that bloke that accused Harry in the dining hall?"

"Possibly," Snape nodded, taking him seriously. "Perhaps he really did want Harry framed. Or perhaps it was just an upset student not knowing what was going on."

"Alexander is an ass," Hermione replied. "But we have no idea about motive for him."

"I believe motive might be the key," Snape replied. "I believe that the motive is yet to be determined, and so it leaves me wondering about the situation with the Quidditch incident. Could it be a family member seeking revenge? But then why not target Krum directly? It really makes no sense."

"It would make sense if harming Mir is the best way to harm Krum," Ron said simply. "I know that if someone wanted to hurt me, taking out a friend or a brother would bloody well do it. Sir."

"Or Mir knew something," Hermione argued. "Perhaps it was to keep him quiet."

"And the initial death was framing Potter," Snape continued. "But then poisoning Dumbledore and myself happened to exonerate him. I can only assume that I was the target there, to stop my investigation. Why would someone go through the bother of framing someone and then be so foolish as to exonerate them?"

"Are you sure there's only one villain?" Hermione asked.

"Perhaps there are more," Snape conceded, rubbing his forehead. "But then things get very complicated. And there has to be some sort of cooperation between the two, how else would the same poison be used both times? It is not a common one."

"So our best lead now is the Quidditch incident," Hermione replied, suddenly looking more determined. "That's something we can do."

"And in a timely manner, please," Snape told her. "I would hate to miss our appointment on Sunday night."

"You have a right crazy way to motivate us," Ron grumbled. "We could slack off and then miss the paddle."

"But you want to find out as much as I do," Snape told them, simultaneously building comradery and managing to be vaguely threatening.

"And we deserve the punishment," Hermione also countered, sounding tired. "I just wish it was all over now."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"I do not want anybody to realize that we're conspiring," Snape hissed at them. "I need you to leave and act as if I have just severely scolded you."

The two nodded, Hermione looking down and Ron glaring.

"Excellent," he replied softly, and then called out, "Come in! I'm just sending these troublemaking two away, and I will see them again in detention this evening."

* * *

 _AN: Okay, we are at the point of no return now. The killer of Mir will be revealed in the next chapter, but I will say there's some added complications that will take another chapter or two after that to resolve, and perhaps an epilogue. I will finish the next chapter as quickly as I possibly can, I promise. If you wish to make a guess I will tell you right/wrong, just pm me. I won't answer unless you're sure you want me to. I also realize that Snape was pretty evil to Ron in this part, but I think that is pretty in line with his character._


	12. Chapter 12 - Revelations

"Mr. Safer," Snape greeted him. "I did not realize I would see you this afternoon."

"Mr. Krum asked me to deliver a message to you," the young man said. "Here it is. I believe he said it was from his family."

"Thank you," Snape nodded, accepting the letter. He looked at it, a plain brownish envelope with a dark red seal on it.

"Were there any more interviews you would like me to set up?" he asked helpfully.

"I think for now I am waiting on other information," Snape told him. "I will let you know if I need you."

"Then I hope that letter contains what you need," Tolga told him in a friendly voice.

Running his finger over the seal, Snape suddenly realized that the seal was loose instead of broken. He knew that only happened when someone pried it off with a hot knife and then attempted to re-affix it. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck.

Reacting to instinct that had kept him alive through countless battles, Snape reached for his wand just as a stunning spell hit him, knocking his wand out of his hand. A Petrificus Totalis followed, and Snape quickly found himself completely frozen and helpless. He could of course cast wandlessly, but not when petrified. He fought down his rising panic with strict occlumency, panicking now would help nobody. He had been frozen at the mercy of madmen before, but he had no idea what sort of madman held him now.

"Would you like me to tell you what the letter says, Professor?" Tolga Safer asked in a slightly mocking tone. "Since this is all of such interest to you that you could leave nothing alone."

Snape blinked in answer, but with a swoop of the other man's wand he found that he could answer.

"I'm guessing that the letter says that the brother of the boy that Viktor Krum accidently killed is named Tolga Safer."

"It was not an accident!" the man flared. "And he will be held responsible."

"I see," Snape agreed, his spy instincts kicking in. "So this is an elaborate plan to make him pay for his crimes." Though it nearly gagged him to flatter this trumped-up upstart, he knew that while he was frozen that was the smartest course of action. Perhaps he could even convince him to let him go if he were good enough.

"Of course!" he bragged, sounding smug. "Of course! Why would I go simply for Krum? It is far more painful to lose someone you love. It took me a few months to determine whom would pain Krum the most, and to tell you the truth I almost had to go for that bushy-haird Hogwarts girl. But, when when I realized who Mir actually was to him, the rest was easy."

"Then why frame Potter?" Snape asked.

"He seemed convenient," Tolga shrugged. "He would have motivation because of the tournament. That worked until I was convinced otherwise."

"I see," Snape answered, knowing better than to ask him who had convinced him. If he felt like he was being interrogated then he would stop talking. "So then you exonerated him."

"I had you guessing," he smirked. "Everyone thinks that they are so clever and nobody sees me, hidden in plain sight."

"You certainly had us fooled," Snape agreed. "Everyone thought that it was Karkaroff."

"Fools!" Tolga snorted. "Like he would actually do anything to annoy or endanger his little golden boy. He took that blood money and used it to his advantage to force Krum to his school."

"If Karkaroff were at Hogwarts he would be a Slytherin," Snape told him. "He uses circumstances to his advantage."

"That was my brother he bartered!" Tolga spat. "The fact that he is blamed for this is an unexpected side benefit."

"I am fortunate that your attempt to exonerate Potter failed," Snape mused. "I could have been killed."

"If I could poison a Potions Master than he doesn't deserve his title!" Tolga snapped back. "And Dumbledore is an old man, I can hardly be blamed for causing his death. Besides, there are people that I . . . respect that wish Dumbledore gone. I did them a favor."

"I see, you a courting friends," Snape nodded. "That is very smart of you."

"But you are right," Tolga continued. "I am not sure what to do with you."

"You could trust me," Snape suggested. "But we both know that you will not. Perhaps Obliviate?"

"But you will still be a thorn in my side," Tolga considered. "But we are four days until the contest, so I cannot have you here making trouble either. But another body would complicate matters as well. What to do with you?"

"I could be unexpectedly missing," Snape suggested. "Perhaps I could send a note to Dumbledore that I was called away urgently, he is likely to think that it is something Potions related and would not question much. Then you may lock me away wherever you wish."

"That could work," Tolga reasoned, but then they both jumped as the door opened.

"Professor, we're sorry to bother you, but I had a question about . . . " Ron started, but then himself was hit with a spell.

"Stupify!" he heard Hermione command, and Snape used the distraction to wandlessly summon his wand to himself. Tolga shielded himself from Hermione, but jumped as part of the stunning spell Snape fired at him got through his shields. Throwing a shield over the unconscious Ron, Snape circled around to try and use the advantage he had over the young wizard. His relief at having his wand again was of course mitigated by his strong belief that he should never underestimate anybody, particularly not someone whose grip on reality seemed as tenuous as Tolga's did. He had had years of practice flattering and complying with a madman, and now he was going to fight one.

"You will not defeat me!" Tolga screamed at them, casting fast and furious. He saw Hermione dodge what he thought might be a cruciatus, but was impressed how she kept her head about her. Wait, did she really just fire a jelly legs curse at him? What was she, a sniveling first year? Perhaps the slug curse or the bat-bogey curse would be next.

Snape, taking the unexpected advantage by the girl's curse actually hitting Tolga and making him unsteady, fired a full-force blasting curse at Tolga's chest. Tolga, distracted by the Jelly Legs curse, was barely able to shield and felt the hit from Snape's curse. He cried something indeterminate out in a mixture of pain and fury.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione then called out, and Tolga's wand was knocked out of his hand at the same time that Snape fired a Petrificus Totalis at the young man. The man, who had been turning to see where his wand went, was stuck in that position as the icy sheen of the spell spread over his body.

Snape continued to hold his wand aloft, trying to decide if the danger was over or if Tolga would get up. Slowly, he realized that his enemy had been defeated with little injury to others. He glanced at the girl, and she looked shocked and as if she were trying to make sense of what had happened.

"I think he's down, Professor," he heard Hermione state in some measure of calm though her breathing was heavier. "That last one finished it. He's frozen solid."

"I . . . appreciate your assistance, Miss Granger," he told her, calming his own heart rate.

"Was it, was it him?" Hermione asked, hesitating. "I mean, he always seemed so nice. It's hard to believe that he was the murderer."

"Indeed, it was him," Snape told her with a nod. "I have pieced together some of his motivation, but I confess myself surprised as well."

"Was he on your list of suspects?"

"Far down the list," Snape admitted. "However, I believe that I have fulfilled my end of the bargain that we struck. The killer is unmasked and Mr. Potter will no longer be the focus of inquiry. Now, is Mr. Weasley well?"

"What?" he heard Ron ask as he sleepily sat up. "What happened?"

"Stunning spell," Hermione explained. "We walked in on Tolga Safer holding Professor Snape hostage."

"We saved Professor Snape?" Ron asked, confused.

"You were an excellent distraction," Snape clarified, clearly rankled by the idea of Ron Weasley saving him. "With excellent timing. However, I saved myself."

"You just think that you can't whack us if we saved you," Ron smiled sleepily.

"Brave actions now doesn't mitigate your rule-breaking before," Snape snapped at him, his eyes narrowing. He limited himself and made no specific threats, however, it was clear the boy wasn't entirely sensible after that spell hit him.

"Tolga Safer?" Ron asked, confused. "Is that the Hufflepuff with the lip thing?"

"He's Karkaroff's aide," Hermione swiftly explained. "This has obviously been a plot, and he was likely going to kill Professor Snape. We were very lucky today."

"Some luck," Ron said, rubbing the back of his head. "Blimey, that bugger caught me completely off guard. I didn't even have my wand out."

"He caught me off guard as well," Snape admitted. "All of us had some luck today in that we survived."

"We need to call the headmistress and the aurors," Snape told them. "I'm sure they will be taking our statements for some time to come and finding a . . . comfortable place for our attacker."

"Should be get our stories straight?" Ron asked, still a bit dazed.

"Ron, we did nothing wrong," Hermione told him. "There's nothing to get straight. We just tell them what happened."

"Miss Granger is correct," Snape told them, a little disconcerted at how casually they were discussing what felt like lying to the aurors. Perhaps cunning was not simply a Slytherin trait. "Just tell the truth as best you remember it."

"All I remember is a bloody blast from that wand," Ron grimaced, rubbing his head again.

"Why did you come back in?" Snape asked the two, curious.

"Hermione saw that Tolga had a message for you," Ron admitted. "We wanted to see if you would tell us what it said."

"Insatiable curiosity," he drawled with sarcasm, and then looked down. "And that curiosity saved my life. Thank you."

"Did we really just get thanked by Snape?" Ron asked himself incredulously.

"Don't get used to it," Snape snapped at him, but both students felt there was no bite in his words. "But I recognize when I owe someone thanks."

"And thank you professor for protecting us," Hermione said. "I saw you cast to protect Ron, and I know you were trying to draw his fire to you."

"Your efforts and . . . interesting choices of curses worked surprisingly well," he answered the girl, mollified that she had recognized his strategies.

"They were the first thing that came to mind," Hermione admitted. "He's lucky I didn't use the bat-bogey curse, Ginny's been teaching me that one."

"I will call the aurors now," Snape told them. "And if I were perhaps Dumbledore or McGonagall, these moments of working together to defeat a common enemy would make me so sloppishly sentimental that I would cancel our agreement and your punishment. But let me remind you that am I neither of those people."

"We didn't expect you to be," Hermione told him honestly. "We are perfectly prepared to keep our end of the bargain."

"Then I will see you both as well as Mr. Potter tomorrow evening as per our agreement. Would seven thirty be a good time for you?"

"Tomorrow evening at seven-thirty," Hermione nodded, agreeing as if she were going to show up for extra homework help.

And with that, Snape called the aurors.

 _AN: Let me know what you think of our villain! I hope I surprised at least people but that there were enough clues that Tolga made sense. It's such a balance between not giving it away but also not making it impossible to guess. I had a few people PM me with the right guess_ _J_ _. There will be two more chapters in this story, and I will get them done as quick as I can. This is such a busy time of year! Thanks for your patience._

 _AN 2 trivia edition (which really just shows what a big nerd I am): Though Karkaroff's aide is a canon character both in the books and movie, he is never named. So, I gave him the name of the actor that plays him in the movie – Tolga Safer. From what I read this actor was trying for the part of Viktor Krum, and was given the aide's role instead._


	13. Chapter 13 - Reckoning

Sunday evening at precisely seven-thirty Snape found three somber Gryffindors filing into his office. Hermione seemed to be facing this with characteristic determination, Ron with abject fear, and Harry with something different. Something that Snape himself was worried about defining. Resignation?

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted him. "Perhaps you could start by telling us about what has happened with Mr. Safer?"

"He is headed to Azkaban," Snape told them. "Mr. Potter is completely exonerated. When searched, the moonseed poison was found as well as other . . . incriminating materials. They are waiting on official permission to use Veritaserum to confirm, but nobody has any doubt that he's the murderer."

"So he killed that poor bloke because he was trying to get revenge on Krum accidently killing his brother in Quidditch?" Ron asked. "That seems a bit, well, vindictive."

"We are none of us at our best when our loved ones are killed," Snape answered, feeling the spark of pain at thinking about Lily. And here he was explaining this to her son! "But you're right, murder does seem a bit of an over-reaction."

"But why did he frame Harry and then exonerate him?" Hermione asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"Unfortunately that will be one of the questions to be answered by Veritaserum," Snape answered her. "He did not tell me that."

"Is it possible someone else is involved?" she asked.

"Perhaps," Snape answered, considering. "But not another murder, per say. But someone that was somewhat in league with Mr. Safer perhaps."

"Thank you for exonerating me, Professor," Harry told him seriously. "I take it as a great personal favor that you believed me even when I didn't believe myself."

"You are welcome," Snape told him. "I believe that there are numerous reasons for you to face punishment, Mr. Potter, so there is no need for you to be punished for things you didn't do."

"You didn't have to help me," Harry told him earnestly. "Thank you for doing so."

"Are you Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs?" Snape demanded. "You will each get six of the best with my paddle, and Potter will get an extra stroke for his blatant disrespect from a few days ago."

The three paled and looked down, their gratefulness to their Potions professor thankfully becoming unspoken. Snape could handle their fear and rage far more than their admiration. How did things get to where they were thanking them right before he doled out a harsh punishment?

"I want to give you three a one-time amnesty," he told them firmly. "You can admit any and all stealing from me and I will consider it punished with this punishment without adding any strokes. I'm speaking particularly about the boomslang skin that was stolen this year."

"It wasn't us," Hermione answered firmly. "I told you the truth the first time."

"And you aren't cleverly avoiding it?" he asked.

"None of us know anything about a boomslang skin stolen this year," Harry told him firmly. "If it wouldn't add to our punishment, why wouldn't we tell you?"

"That is a point," Snape responded. "But I also want details on the one you did steal."

"I told you it was for Polyjuice," Hermione told him.

"I have had your confession, Miss Granger," he told her. "I believe the bargain was for your compatriot's confessions."

"We created the distraction," Ron confessed. "The fireworks in Malfoy's cauldron, that was us. Hermione decided to actually do the stealing because, well, she had a clean record. So we just had to make the diversion."

"And a dangerous diversion at that," he sternly intoned.

Gulping, Ron nodded. "It was foolish," he agreed. "And we didn't even learn anything useful."

"So you three have admitted to theft, arson, drugging fellow students, assault, brewing and using a classified potion, sneaking into another common room, impersonating other students, and generally having a complete disrespect for the rules. Do any of you dispute these charges?"

They all three shook their heads. It sounded so much worse how Snape said it.

"Since most of the offenses were committed against me and my house, I have the right to punish you for it. Any of you three have the right to refuse my censure and instead apply to the headmaster for your punishment instead."

"I don't go back on my word," Hermione told him quietly.

"I'm not letting Hermione get the cane," Ron added.

"I won't give Miss Granger the cane," Snape told him, smirking at his blind bravery for the pretty Gryffindor. "Even should you back out."

"We agreed," Harry quietly replied. "We don't go back on our word. Even if it hurts."

"Very well, then your reckoning is upon you. Since Miss Granger was the actual Boomslang thief, I suggest she goes first."

"But . . ." Ron protested.

"I can go first," Hermione told him firmly. "We talked about this, Ron. There is no place for chivalry here."

"I'll take hers," Ron offered, though Snape heard the fear in his voice.

"Everyone takes their own," Snape intoned. "Miss Granger, please remove your robes and bend over the desk."

Hermione nodded, silent, and complied. With the air of dignity, she folded her robe nicely and then bent over the edge of the desk, forming a triangle with her hands and resting her forehead on that. Though she had never experienced anything like this, she assumed that it would be painful. Her uniform skirt came up a little in back, and Snape knew to make sure the paddle landed where the fabric would provide at least a little cushioning.

Snape brought the paddle out of the drawer, unbuttoning his shirt at the wrist and cuffing it a bit. He saw the boys' eyes widen as they saw the paddle, and Ron squeaked in concern. Snape knew that it did look intimidating, it was a thick, long length of solid, dark-polished wood with beveled holes drilled in it.

"Why a paddle, Professor?" Hermione asked in some semblance of calm. "It is an uncommon disciplinary tool in Britain."

"It hurts more than the slipper," Snape explained. "But doesn't leave marks like the cane. I received this one as a gift from a fellow teacher in America, and have found it very useful for its intended purposes."

"Do you do this often then, sir?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly shaking.

"Often enough," Snape answered. "Though rarely does a student need a second dose. I hope that to be the case with you three as well."

"We won't steal from you again," Hermione promised.

"Very well," Snape nodded. "Six of the best. Remain in position until I excuse you."

Harry and Ron gasped in shock as they watched Snape draw his arm back what seemed to be impossibly far and then let the paddle smack harshly against Hermione's skirt-clad backside. She let out a startled yelp at the impact, but remained in position. Another stroke fell, causing her to jump so that her knees hit the side of the desk. She had let out another yelp, but tears didn't form until the third stroke. Hermione didn't protest, again impressing Snape on how Hermione truly was the Gryffindor the hat had said she was rather than the Ravenclaw Snape had assumed she should have been. She took her punishment with bravery. Snape aimed the last stroke brutally across her upper thighs, causing a strangled sob to escape her lips.

"Your punishment is complete, Miss Granger," he told her calmly. "You may collect your things and wait in the hallway for your housemates."

"Yes, sir," she replied in a strangled voice, gathering her robe and heading for the door.

"Thank you, sir," Ron told him in a low voice after Hermione had closed the door. "I don't think I can bear her seeing me."

"You saw her be disciplined," Snape replied, arching an eyebrow at the lad.

"That's just it," Ron admitted. "I think she was way braver than I will be."

"Let's find out, shall we?" Snape asked him. "Mr. Weasley, please remove your robe and bend over the desk."

Ron gulped in response, and obeyed, his face stricken in fear. He had been spanked by his own parents, sure, but he knew that this was going to be much different.

"I trust that you will not repeat your behavior, Mr. Weasley," he intoned.

"I won't!" Ron promised. "But I could promise that even without . . ."

The first smack took Ron by surprised, and a startled yelp came from his mouth. His knees kicked against the desk at the second stroke, and a strangled cry came from his mouth at three. Snape found himself feeling more sympathy for the lad than he had anticipated, but forced himself not to soften the swats he was delivering to the lad's backside. As he smacked the last one against the boy's seat of his pants, he heard sobs erupt from the boy. He gave the lad a moment to calm himself, and then said quietly, "Your punishment is complete, Mr. Weasley. Please join Miss Granger in the hallway."

Ron, his normally freckled face flushed and teary, nodded as he pushed himself up from the desk. Re-adjusting his clothes as he wiped his eyes, he silently took his robes and filed out of the room, surreptitiously rubbing his backside just before he opened the door. Harry gulped when he saw his friends leave, suddenly it was just him and the Potions Master. He was alone with the man that had made it a study to make his last four years at school miserable. And he was completely under his power.

"Are you ready for your punishment, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked quietly.

"I am," Harry answered, his voice cracking slightly. "Same as the others, then?"

"Except you will receive seven," Snape told him. "Assume the position, Mr. Potter."

Harry, trying to keep his hands from shaking, unfastened his robe and then walked over to the desk. Silently, he bent over the desk and waited for his sentence.

Snape watched the lad ready himself for his punishment, and he found himself feeling that there was something wrong. In this entire time together the lad had been far too quiet, and Snape found himself wondering at it. Where was the mouthy, disrespectful boy that had populated his classes?

"I appreciate your integrity and staying with our agreement," Snape told him. "Even at personal cost."

"I keep my word," Harry answered stoically.

"And so do I," Snape answered, raising the paddle. "Brace yourself."

Harry took his punishment stoically, not making a sound beyond a sharp intake of breath as the first smack fell. Subsequent smacks got equal response, and Harry didn't even move for the last stroke placed on his upper thighs.

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Snape, and he quietly placed the paddle on the desk. He walked quietly to his chair, and sat down facing Harry, his hands steepled in thought.

"You may raise, Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "But please tarry for a minute."

"Sir?" he asked, his voice thick.

"Please remove your shirt, Mr. Potter."

"What?" Harry echoed, incredulous.

"Please remove your shirt," he said, slightly sterner.

"But you already disciplined me, sir!" Harry objected, his voice holding abject fear.

Any doubt that still lingered for Snape evaporated like mist. "I can spell it off just as easy," Snape told him. "This is not for discipline, I am not intending to discipline you any further this evening. However, I might reconsider that if you do not obey me at once."

Harry obeyed slowly, removing his shirt and looking down, trying to control his fear. He felt far more vulnerable without his shirt on than he did even bending over the desk. He felt as if he could hardly breathe.

Snape looked at the lad's back, carefully enough that the memory could be put in a pensieve if needed. The scars Snape expected were there, healed over the course of years. They were not pronounced or obvious, but there if you knew what to look for.

"You may replace your shirt," Snape told him.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, quickly putting his shirt back on and looking up in confusion.

"How long have they been beating you?" he asked in his silky voice.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"I should have seen it before," Snape told him wearily. "I am not usually fooled. Your guardians, your aunt and uncle. How long have they been beating you?"

"All along," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Though it became much worse when I started having accidental magic."

"You will report for a full medical scan to Madame Pomfrey on the morrow," he told him.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, dazed.

"The signs are unmistakable," Snape told him. "Your friend Mr. Weasley had been smacked by his parents on occasion, but did he lie still and silent while I punished him?"

"He didn't," Harry answered.

"That's one of the clues," Snape told him. "Abused children will often be still and silent like you were. There are other clues, but I have obviously let my . . . history with your family skew my judgment."

"Dumbledore said that I had to live there for my protection," Harry explained. "The blood wards . . ."

"Let me assure you that if Dumbledore knew the extent of their abuse that you would have been removed," Snape told him.

"Are you going to tell him?" Harry asked, shocked. "They're going to kill me!"

"Of course I am," Snape told him in a no-nonsense voice. "And let me assure you now, on my honor as a wizard, that you will not be returned to that home."

"Why do you care?" Harry asked, tears brimming in his eyes for the first time.

"We will discuss that later," Snape told him, sighing. "But for right now, you may join your friends in the hallway."


	14. Chapter 14 - Puzzling

_AN: I'm sorry at not replying to a lot of excellent and helpful reviews on the last chapter, Fanfiction is having some sort of issues. Thank you for your comments, I appreciate them immensely. And I wanted to say that I was with you, in some ways I was sort of expecting it to work out that Snape wouldn't have punished them. But in the end, he is Snape, and it seemed disingenuous that he wouldn't do what he had said he would._

 _Note on this chapter: The chapter grew so long that I had to split it, so we are one chapter from the end. I will write it soon, it's halfway done now anyway. Thanks for everyone! I am kicking around the idea of a sequel with solving a murder in the following year, what do you guys think? Too many murders for Hogwarts?_

* * *

Snape sat, waiting for the hoopla of the final event of the Tri-Wizard tournament to commence. He thought about Potter, and how the scans that Poppy had run had showed years of abuse. He shook his head at the thought – and how everyone had missed it. He was glad that Dumbledore was in seclusion and hadn't been told yet; the news would certainly crush the old man. But he had already quietly started the procedure to remove Harry from their home, so he knew that Dumbledore would have to find out sooner or later.

They had decided on Dumbledore's miraculous recovery happening after the last event just in case there was something more afoot. Snape knew that Safer had been the villain all along, but something kept bothering him about it. It was the fact that he changed tact, Snape decided. Someone had convinced him, and that didn't sit well with Snape. Someone knew that Harry had been framed and didn't want that to happen? But surely it was someone wanting Harry to win that would make him change his mind, but who would want Harry to win the tournament but still be completely fine with Tolga murdering innocent people?

"Hello, professor," he heard Miss Granger's voice politely greet him. "May we sit with you?"

"I suppose," he grumbled, but was secretly a bit relieved. He had debated with himself about applying the promised punishment to the three teens or not, and he did not like to admit that part of his reluctance was that it would cause them to hate him more. But in the last few days there had been no glares; not even reproachful glances. And now what was this? Overtures of friendship? From Gryffindors?

"Harry was very nervous about this event," Hermione continued, settling herself beside the hated Potions Master. "Ron and I couldn't see as well back there, and had hoped you would let us sit with you so we could see better."

"Hmph," Snape answered, feeling used for his better seating. But, he found himself objecting to the presence of these Gryffindors far less than usual. Was he actually entering into a state of something mutual between them? At least the mutual lack of hate?

"It is because of you, professor, that he's able to compete," Hermione told him firmly. "We all know that. Thank you again."

"You're lucky to be able to sit down and watch," Snape drawled, which actually caused the wretches to laugh in response. Had the wretches no sense of fear after he had soundly punished them?

"You don't have that good of an arm, professor," the Weasley brat laughed. "It has been a few days now. But if we had been the thieves for the more recent stealing . . ."

"You find I keep my word," Snape sniffed. "You would have received the same consequence."

Ron shrugged. "Bugger for the kid that did it then. Maybe we should have lied and said we did it to save some poor future bloke the same fate."

In that moment, Snape suddenly felt like the pieces clicked together in his brain. It wasn't a kid, he realized. It had been an adult. An adult at Hogwarts that was under polyjuice. That was how Harry's name got in the cup, and that was who convinced Tolga to not frame Harry for the murders. Someone had wanted Harry to enter the contest and win it – and not someone good if they had no problem with Tolga's murderous ways. But why?

"How do we know when they win?" Ron asked, gazing at the maze.

"The winner touches the goblet of fire at the end of the maze," Snape told them woodenly. "It will transport them back here."

And then suddenly, an alarm went off in his head. This entire thing had been a setup, and designed to get Harry to touch a portkey that went somewhere other than the beginning of the maze for his adoring fans. They were planning on kidnapping the boy.

Snape, using instincts learned as a spy for Voldemort, scanned the group of professors to see if someone was missing. As he realized Moody was the one missing, a series of pictures flipped through his memory of the past year. The near constant drinking from a flask (Polyjuice! Snape realized), turning Malfoy into a ferret, and the odd reports he got back about unforgiveable curses from his students. He had even been the one to volunteer to put the cup in the middle of the maze! It would be so easy for him to change where the port-key was going to go. How could he have been so stupid? Some deatheater had been masquerading as Mad-Eye, probably this entire year. And that subsequently meant that Harry was in grievous danger.

"What is it, sir?" Hermione asked suddenly, looking carefully at Snape and noticing the fire ignite in his eyes.

"Harry is in danger," he clipped shortly but low enough that only the two of them heard. "I just realized that the boomslang thief was a deatheater using Polyjuice to masquerade as Moody, probably all year. This has been an elaborate ruse to kidnap Potter, and I must go into the maze and fetch him at once."

"We're coming too," Ron told him firmly, setting his jaw in determination.

"You will not," Snape told him with a deathly chill.

"He is our friend!" Ron protested.

"If you take one step into that maze you will find yourself with a sticking spell over my desk," Snape warned darkly. "And yes, it will be a cane and I will show no mercy."

"Worth it," Ron told him defiantly, though Snape could tell he paled a bit at the mental picture.

"You have no care for how to be truly useful," Snape growled. "All you care about it your stupid Gryffindor bravado. But you will obey me in this, I want no part of having under-aged wizards underfoot that I need to protect."

"We can help!" Ron protested, his face turning scarlet in indignation. "Do you know how many times Harry tried to do it alone without help? You're bloody well just like him!"

Snape, incensed by what he felt was one of the worst insults the red-haired wizard could give him looked ready to give Weasley that promised caning on the spot. "How dare you?" he asked with deadly intensity.

"Professor," Hermione interrupted. "None of this is helping Harry. Time is important right now."

"That's true," he acknowledged, trying to get his temper under control. "You are costing your friend my help, Weasley."

"I can help too!" Ron protested.

"Are there other ways we could be of help perhaps?" Hermione suggested.

Snape, appreciating her tact, took a deep breath and thought for a moment, and then rummaged into a pocket in his robe. He was so used to relying only on himself that it was foreign to him to think to ask for the help these two students could actually give him. "Miss Granger, if you could take this portkey and summon Dumbledore, that would be of help. Tell him what I told you and tell him that he needs to come here as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir," she answered, taking the coin from him.

"Go somewhere you won't be seen, and the activation word is, 'Lemon drops.'"

"I will hurry," she promised, hurrying off.

"Mr. Weasley, I want you to go to my office and floo call your father at the ministry. Tell him that you are worried that your pet owl is going to bolt."

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

"The password for the portrait on my door is, "hellebore."

"I will hurry," Ron told him.

"The floos are easy to eavesdrop upon," Snape warned him. "Only give your father the message I gave you, and use those exact words. He will know to summon Auror Shacklebolt to the school at once, and will hopefully come himself. We need as many trustworthy wizards as possible here now. Wait by the floo, and once they come through then brief them on my conclusions."

Ron nodded, grateful to be useful, and then scampered off. Snape turned his attention to the maze, determining the best route. He couldn't just walk in – that would raise too many questions. As one of the professors that created the maze, however, he had an advantage. Not only did he know where the devil's snare and assorted hurdles were hidden for the contestants to overcome, but he also knew a way to get in unseen.

Walking swiftly and with purpose (as he found very few people willing to challenge him when he walked fast with a scowl on his face) he went around the side of the maze to where there was a clearer spot in the bramble surrounding the maze. Though the maze had been grown on what had previously been the Quidditch pitch, it seemed larger and more ominous than should have been able to fit on just the pitch. Glancing around to make sure he was unnoticed, it was easy enough to open the brambles enough for him to be able to slip into the maze.

Snape walked with purpose again, knowing instinctively which turns to make. He had to make short work of a blast-ended skrewt, however, and he cursed Hagrid as he stepped over its inert body.

Suddenly, a spell blast went by his ear as he shielded automatically.

"What are you doing?" he yelled at Viktor Krum, who was approaching him.

Instead of answering, he fired again with what Snape saw was the cruciatus. He had been lucky that his reflexes had enabled him to dodge, the shield he'd erected could do nothing against the unforgivable. Snape, dodging expertly as he shielded again, fired back and knocked the man's wand out of his hand, throwing him unconsciously to the ground.

"The Imperious Curse," Snape breathed to himself, realizing that "Moody" had further ensured that Harry would win the cup. Krum would never have fired the cruciatus without being under the Imperious curse. And if "Moody" had been willing to do this, then there was no limit to what he would do. He had to hurry.

Snape swiftly went through the maze, his wand drawn. A few minor remnants of obstacles attempted to slow him, but his instincts took over as he was able to move swiftly to the end of the maze. He thought he heard muffled talking a few times, and prayed that he would be able to make it in time. He had to separate his mind from his body in order to stave off the rising panic he felt inside. What if he wasn't in time?

A golden mist turned him upside down, and he grunted in disapproval. He really had no patience for interruptions like this. He had to hope that the two Gryffindors were able to summon help, and that he could find Potter in time.

And then, he rounded the corner as he saw Harry and Cedric Diggory about to grasp the Triwizard cup together.

"No!" Snape yelled as he lunged for the boys, and found himself sucked right along side them into the unknown.


	15. Chapter 15 - Resurrection

The three tumbled onto the ground, and in the chaos Snape was knocked several paces away. The shock of the transport hummed in his ears, and he could hear that people were talking but couldn't understand what was said. But his eyes took on what he was seeing in a flash – the presence of a diminished Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, and the clear intention to kill the cowering Hufflepuff boy, probably because he was there.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape called out as he smoothly drew his wand and aimed it at the young Hogwarts champion.

The spell caught the boy, unwanding him as it threw him ten meters, slamming him against a tree. Half of a breath later the green, sickly light of an Avada Kadavra from Pettigrew's wand struck the ground where the boy had been.

He saw Harry's eyes grow large and scared, and he looked at Peter Pettigrew and the small form of Voldemort. He saw the cauldron and suddenly the pieces fit together. Bone of the father, unknowingly taken; flesh of the servant, willingly given; blood of an enemy unwilling taken . . . and Snape saw what was going to happen. And he knew why the Dark Lord wanted Potter – he was hoping that with some of his blood he would be able to defeat the lad. And, with the certainty born of the intuitive potions master that he was, he also knew that it wouldn't work. If anything, using Harry's blood would only strengthen his mother's spell. So how to get out of it?

"Master," Snape acknowledged, kneeling before the infantile form of the Dark Lord. "I have disabled the whelp for you. I am gratified to learn of your return."

"Severus, my faithful servant," Voldemort hissed. "You shall bear witness to my regeneration."

"Of course, my Lord," Snape answered. He felt a momentary pang as he realized that Harry saw his abject humiliation. But he couldn't worry about that now – now he had to play a part.

He watched as Peter Pettigrew secured Harry with the tombstone. The boy turned wide eyes on Snape, and Snape hoped that the boy realized the subterfuge he would have to accomplish to make this work.

"May I be of assistance, my master?" Snape asked.

"Pettigrew will do best for the primary ingredient needed from a servant," Voldemort answered. "I would not have you subject to . . . inconvenient questions if you are to remain my spy."

"I am grateful, my master."

"But you were always the best at potions," Snape continued. "Could you perhaps check to make sure our base is correctly made?"

"Of course, my master," Snape nodded. "And I would assume that you have the final ingredients at hand?"

"Of course," Peter snapped. "We have been planning this for a long time."

"Then allow me to assist," Snape said, going to his feet and nearing the cauldron. "I will see if it's ready for use."

Snape seemed calm outwardly, but inside his mind was racing. Did he want to blow his cover or was it more useful to have him continue as a spy? Could he kill Voldemort here now with doing something to the potion or would he be able to come back as he continued being able to do? His ability to continue to come back made Snape hesitate – surely it was better to deal with this incarnation of him then to wait for him to come back another way?

But, given that he would rather deal with Voldemort with this incarnation and to also remain a spy, was there anything he could do to the potion to weaken him in a subtle way? He looked in the cauldron, and had to admire Pettigrew's brewing. The boy had barely managed an OWL in potions, and here he was brewing a new body for the Dark Lord.

"Does it look well-brewed?" the Voldemort thing asked him.

"You must let me test it, my Lord," Snape him. "Give me a few moments."

"I followed all of the directions," Pettigrew sniveled.

Snape inspected the potion, smelling it, dipping a finger into it, and even putting the smallest bit on his tongue.

"It could be strengthened with a bit of asphodel," Snape told him. "And nettle will help bind you more firmly to your new body." _Firm enough to kill,_ Snape added nearly subconsciously.

"Do you have those with you?" Voldemort asked him.

"Of course, master," Snape answered, pulling his potions kit from his robe pocket and unshrinking it. "I believe that some Acromantula saliva might also make you more impervious to outside forces." _Or make your core unstable,_ Snape thought to himself, although very quietly so nobody could pry that thought from his mind.

Snape added the ingredients, and tried to think if there were any other things he could add to subtly weaken Voldemort.

"Enough!" Voldemort cried. "It is time to add the bone."

"I can do this, milord," Snape told him. "Perhaps Pettigrew can focus on his donation to this potion."

"Pettigrew can do the bone," Voldemort told him, weakness creeping into his venomous voice. "You collect the blood from my unwilling enemy."

Snape nodded, saying, "Yes, master," as he turned towards where Harry was trapped.

"Bastard," Harry spat at him, and Snape could see that he'd been crying. "Did you kill Cedric?"

"Silence, brat," Snape told him, pulling a long thin knife out of his pocket and looking the boy fully in the face. "The Dark Lord needs your blood, unwillingly given in order to regenerate. It is my duty to get that for him."

With great relief, Snape saw the understanding creep into Harry's eyes. The boy understood. Snape could almost believe that this boy should have been in Slytherin.

"Betrayer!" he yelled at Snape with passion. "I always knew you were evil!"

"Hold out your arm," Snape directed coldly. "If you do not, I will spell you still."

"Take my blood," Harry whispered, barely audible. "I give it to you freely."

Snape nodded, taking the knife and drawing it shallowly across Harry's forearm. Harry cried out dramatically, even though Snape wordlessly healed the cut as soon as the knife drew across his skin.

Taking the bloody knife, Snape turned back to the potion and added the drops of blood. He hoped that his efforts would be enough.

Pettigrew drew his knife to make his sacrifice, and Harry looked away as he realized the man intended to cut off his hand. Fire exploded from the cauldron as Pettigrew's donation splashed into the pot, and Snape shielded his face as the force of the explosion knocked him back. He found himself thrown towards Harry, and though his instincts told him to shield the boy his head told him that the boy was far enough away. Would his interference have any affect on the resurrection? Would it stop it, or just weaken his new form?

With a billow of black potion that reminded Harry of the smell of what Neville often did in potions, he saw Snape and Pettigrew being thrown back. At first Harry had felt betrayed by the Potions Master, but then he suddenly realized the subterfuge that the man must be doing. He knew Snape often played a part for others, and he suspected that he was doing that again now. There was a reason that Dumbledore trusted the man so thoroughly, and Harry began to trust him too.

The smoke cleared, and Harry could see the form of Voldemort rise from the smoke. His movements seemed jerky and uncertain, as if his body didn't fit properly.

"Are you well, milord?" Snape asked him softly. "Truly, you are magnificent to behold."

"My body is . . . working," Voldemort replied. "But it is . . . odd."

"Master," Pettigrew held up his wand. Blood dripped down his body from the bloody stump he'd tucked under his armpit. "Master, your wand."

Voldemort took the wand, feeling the heft in his hand. Why did it feel so odd?

"Expelliarmus!" erupted from behind Harry, and his mouth gaped as he realized that Cedric had regained consciousness and was actually trying to attack Voldemort.

"No!" Harry yelled. "Cedric, run away!"

Snape pulled out his wand to do what he had done last time, but he wasn't able to beat Voldemort's Avada Kadavra spell fired right at him. The sick green light flashed, filling the graveyard. Snape's Expelliarmus hit the already dead body of Cedric Diggory, this time not in time to knock him out of the way of the killing curse. Harry watched the boy's inert body fall to the ground, and Harry couldn't tell if it was Cedric or himself screaming. In his panic Harry had somehow been able to work his way free from the restraints and drew his wand.

Snape saw it happen, but could do little to stop it. Harry aimed at Voldemort, and Voldemort matched the spell. The cracking light from both of their spells met, and Harry's began to slowly overcome the light from Voldemort's wand.

"No!" Voldemort yelled, realizing Harry's strength compared to his own. "No!"

As Harry's wand increased in strength, ghosts of spells started to come out of Voldemort's wand. First, he saw the silvery presence of Cedric come beside him.

"Harry, take my body back to my father," Cedric told him. "And tell him I died fighting the Dark Lord."

"I will," Harry promised.

"And don't feel guilty," he told Harry in a mock stern voice. "I'm the one that thought you needed protection, and you're doing well enough on your own."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, putting more power into his wand.

Cedric faded, but there were others coming out of the wand, most of whom Harry didn't recognize. Finally, Voldemort gave a push with all his strength, which interrupted the stream long enough for him to grab ahold of Pettigrew and then apparate. There was a loud clap, and then suddenly the dark mist began to clear. Harry found himself staring into the dark eyes of the Potion Master, who suddenly seemed concerned.

"Are you all right, Harry?" he asked firmly. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," Harry answered, numbly holding his wand in shock. "What happened?"

"The Dark Lord knows you're more powerful than he is," Snape acknowledged. "He's left to lick his wounds."

"Are you his or are you Dumbledore's?" Harry asked simply, looking up at Snape with trust.

Snape didn't know quite what to do with that trust. He knew that Harry would believe whatever he told him at that moment, there had been too much happening to lie. And he found himself reluctant to lie to this young Gryffindor.

"I am Dumbledore's man," Snape answered quietly. "But I pretend to help Voldemort in order to be a spy."

"That's what I thought," Harry nodded, unconcerned. "What did you do to his potion?"

"Altered it slightly to weaken him," Snape answered. "But your understanding and giving your blood willingly probably did the most damage. I'm not sure exactly what affects it will have on his health, but I am assuming that it will make him weaker if not unable to function altogether."

"That was smart," Harry nodded, still numb. "How did you get through?"

"I realized that it was a trap," Snape answered carefully. "I tried to stop you from touching it, but I was too late."

"And now Cedric is dead," Harry said simply, looking at the body of his fellow student.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Snape told him gently. "Cedric died a hero, trying to save you. This is the fault of the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded, not completely believing him, but not able to argue. "He wanted me to take his body back to his father."

"The cup came with you," Snape observed. "If you take it back touching Cedric it will take you both."

"What about you?" Harry asked.

"I think it's best if my part isn't known," Snape answered. "When you get back, when they start demanding answers, simply swoon a bit. You will be taken to Poppy, and then tell her that you need to speak to Dumbledore. He will sort out everything from there."

"I will," Harry promised. "But could you . . . come and see me after?"

"I will," Snape promised, though he had no idea why Harry would want him as a visitor. "And I will answer any other questions you have at that point. It is not safe for you to be here, Harry. You need to go back."

Harry nodded numbly, walked over to Cedric's body and spelled it quietly over to where the cup had fallen. With tears forming in his eye, he thought about learning that spell Wingardium Leviosa with Hermione and Ron. Would Hogwarts ever be the same again?

And with that, he touched Cedric's still warm body and then touched the cup, and he was yanked out of that small graveyard and back into the screaming insanity that had everyone cheering for their new Triwizard champion. Harry felt as if he was merely observing as his body yelled for help, sobbing and screaming. He felt it as the tenor of the crowd changed, and soon there were the robes of wizards and witches surrounding him, with hands helping ease him away from Cedric's body. He felt the firm hands of whom he later assumed was his head of house easing him away. He wasn't sure if she had cast a spell on him or not, but he found the world around him growing dark, and he knew nothing more until he woke in the infirmary the next morning.

* * *

 _AN: There will be a bit of an epilogue, but we are drawing to the end of the tale of the Boomslang Thief. I am sorry that I had to allow Cedric's death, I tried really hard to avoid it. But, it would affect so much more if he hadn't died. I know that preventing Cedric's death was part of the plot of "The Cursed Child," which I haven't read, but I agree that it would be problematic for him not to die. His death changes everything – it makes Voldemort's evil much more present for Harry, and it becomes a counterpoint to the ministry's sticking their fingers in their ears and humming approach to Voldemort's resurrection. I am kicking around the idea of a sequel which would probably have to do with Umbridge's murder, but we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think._


	16. Chapter 16 - Epilogue

"You called, headmaster?" Harry asked as he opened the door after his knock.

"Yes, yes, please come in, my boy," Dumbledore smiled at him.

"It is good to have you back," Harry told him, feeling suddenly shy.

"It is good to be back," Dumbledore answered, smiling broadly. "Professor Snape said that it was . . . difficult for you when I was ill."

"It was," Harry admitted, his ears reddening. "Did Professor Snape tell you all of that story?"

"He did," Dumbledore answered kindly. "And he also spoke of how his act of kindness seemed to inspire more respect from you. I believe that the two of you are on better terms now?"

"We are," Harry agreed.

"Even with the punishment he later administered?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"It was fair," Harry replied, squirming a bit at the memory. "Hard, but fair. None of us objected."

"That's good to hear," Dumbledore answered easily. "But it also brings me to what I wished to speak to you about. Before we begin, I wanted to start by letting you know that Professor Snape wished to be here, but I insisted on doing this just between you and me."

"Sir?" Harry asked, confused.

"Professor Snape made you a promise that I am insisting he break," Dumbledore explained, his face grave. "But I think that I have a proposal that you might find tolerable."

"It's about living with the Dursleys," Harry realized. "You want to send me back."

"You have to realize that it's about your protection," Dumbledore explained. "I understand from Professor Snape that that family has treated you poorly, far more poorly than I had realized."

"Yes, they did," Harry answered in a small voice.

"And usually in this situation we would do exactly as Professor Snape promised," Dumbledore explained. "But you know that it is important for you to have a time in that house and for it to still be your home for the charm of your mother's blood to work."

"I understand," Harry answered quietly, blinking back tears. It had really been too much to hope for that he wouldn't have to go back, but he had really hoped that he could go . . . well, just about anywhere else.

"Professor Snape threatened to kidnap you and enroll you in Durmstrang," the Headmaster continued. "When I pointed out that this might jeopardize his employment, he assured me that Durmstrang would also accept him as a professor should he choose. So, we were forced to compromise."

"He did that?" Harry asked, shocked.

"I think you find that though our Professor Snape seems hard and cold, he is incredibly loyal and once he gives his word he keeps it."

"But he can't keep it now."

"He will if you want him to," Dumbledore answered. "I promised that I would tell you that he will keep his word if you insist. But I ask that you listen to the alternative and see if we can come up with a compromise that might retain you here at Hogwarts."

"What alternative?" Harry asked, confused.

"You have to go to the Dursley's house," Dumbledore told him. "But you don't have to be alone."

"What?"

"We're thinking of legally of age wizards, of course," Dumbledore told him, eyes twinkling. "People are actually very eager to volunteer. The Weasley twins, I remind you, are now officially of age."

"Fred and George?" Harry asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. This had real possibilities – especially if they didn't have the trace put on them as Harry did. How would Dudley fancy knowing the two worst pranksters in Hogwarts history? There would be no Harry hunting this summer.

"But Professor Snape said that should you agree to the alternative, he would take the first shift," Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling like mad. "He wants the chance to explain the change in circumstances to the muggles."

"I think that this could work," Harry replied, realizing some of the scope and implications of the plan. "It could be fun."

"And then, when you've been there long enough to satisfy the blood magic, you can move to headquarters," Dumbledore told him. "But I can tell you no more until that time."

 _AN: Thank you to everyone who has read this story to this point. It has been a fun world in which to play. I'm still undecided on a sequel, I think I may start writing and see if it works. I wasn't planning on writing the summer, but leaving it to the imagination of the reader. What do you think Fred and George would do to the Dursleys?_


	17. sequel announcement

Hi! This is an announcement to let you know that I have posted the beginning of the sequel to this story. It is a murder mystery as well, set about six months after the happenings of this book. Looking forward to seeing you over there!


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